Little Brother is Watching
by Lucky-Angel135
Summary: After an unexpected talk with America, Russia wants to rekindle the friendship they shared in America's colonial days. Problem is, as the feelings between them grow, so does the ire of America's supposedly harmless brother. RusAme, Protective!Canada
1. My Precious Brother

Ello everybody! Angel here with a lovely two shot as a gift for my amazing, sexy, beautiful, fantastic, wonderful, amazing, glorious Chinese/Internet wife, Lucky. See, Lucky has written me a story every year for my birthday and I have done nothing! D: So I own her three. This is the first so...Happy 13th Birthday! I mean, this fic is three years overdue, but it's here now!

Kay, so she wanted to be converted to RusAme along with this she wanted it to be fluffy, featuring a protective!slightlyinsane!Canada, sage!England, goodsport!Russia and himself!America. So this creature was bred in my lab and released into the wild. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own not this madness.

* * *

Austria's Christmas ball was in full swing, though Russia wasn't in any mood to enjoy it. It was a silly affair, but Austria liked to feel aristocratic, and everyone else sort of obliged him. If they didn't go, Hungary was bound to knock them out with a frying pan and drag them all there anyway.

Due to the short notice his late invitation gave and lack of any other willing party, Russia had come with Belarus. Upon arriving she glared at anyone who came within six feet of him. Needless to say, there was a sizable gap between them and the rest of the partygoers.

It was really very sad. Russia came hoping to socialize and maybe change everyone's opinions about him, but Belarus was having none of it. He couldn't even dance with her. She was so busy maintaining her force field of intimidation and anchoring herself to his arm that all he could do was stand there like an increasingly awkward elephant.

It also dawned on him how pathetic he was for coming to a dance with his _sister._ It was humiliating, and he used his free hand to bring his scarf over his nose and cheeks. For a moment he wondered if it were possible to chew through his own arm and make a break for it.

That was when he caught sight of someone standing alone on the other side of the room. He recognized that blond hair and those blue eyes anywhere. But why was America alone? He should be the life of the party. Of all the nations in need of a date, Russia didn't think America would be one of them. Even back when they were friends, America's sunny outlook and idiotic charm always won people's hearts. At the very least England should have taken him. This required some investigation.

"Um, Belarus?" He turned to his sister. Her keen violet eyes were glued to Lithuania, who was grudgingly dancing with Poland.

"Yes, brother?" she asked without taking her eyes off of her target.

"I…think I should go sit down for a while. I'm starting to get tired. Would you mind grabbing me a drink?" He smiled sweetly when she looked up at him. She didn't say anything for a while, and his smile slipped around the edges.

"I'll do anything for you, brother," she finally said with a light blush coloring her cheeks. Then with a whirl of her skirts she was gone and Russia's arm was free. Relief washed over him. He bought himself enough time to slip through the crowd to America.

The other nation held a cup of punch and watched the others with a smile on his face. It wasn't a happy one though, and for the first time in a long time, something other than his sisters made Russia uncomfortable. There used to be a time where he knew exactly what to say to America, but that had long since passed. Now it was just awkward and he realized he was an idiot for walking over here.

"Hey, Russia." Crap. He didn't even get a chance to make a tactical retreat.

"Ah, _privet_ America. Are you enjoying yourself?" He steeled himself for an insult. He hadn't had a serious talk with America since their bosses started disarming their nuclear bombs. That had been a few years ago, and even then it was uncomfortable. They hadn't spoken more than two words to each other. With their bosses wanting to restart their less than stellar relations, it would have been too easy to slip back into old habits after hating each other for so long.

"Eh, not really. I don't have anyone to dance with." America shrugged sheepishly. Huh, he had been expecting a communist insult, or at the very least a good old fashioned 'fuck off.'

"That's unfortunate. I'm here with my sister." Russia sighed when he imagined the havoc Belarus was causing over at the punch table.

"Really?" America's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline and his smile turned into a smirk. "Your sister? I'm sorry, but that's hilarious!"

"You don't have to say it so loudly." Russia crossed his arms and looked away. "And I better get back to her. At least she values my company." He grumbled the last part.

"Dude, no need to get mad. I'm here with my brother!" America laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm glad to see I'm not the only loser here who came without a date!" And just like that it all came back. This was the America Russia knew before the Bolshevik Revolution. He missed this America, the sweet kid who was infuriatingly optimistic, not the paranoid wreck who rode the McCarthyism train for all its worth.

They talked for what felt like hours, as if the Cold War had never happened and all the awkwardness between them didn't exist. They weren't Russia and America, but rather Ivan and Alfred — two friends catching up. It wasn't hard for Russia to admit to himself he missed this.

"I remember the look on England's face!"

"I know, right?" America was holding his sides and leaning against the pillar as he trembled with laughter. "Dude, I think more than half of my bad habits come from you."

"Oh, like what?" Russia said.

"Closet drinking, love of guns, failure at attempting to write my name in the snow with my own urine, you know, stuff like that."

"I'm glad I made such an influence." It was odd for him to laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good one. "As for your name, all it takes is a little coordination."

"Thanks for the advice, Mr. Calligraphy."

Russia shook his head with a chuckle and took in the other guests. A slow song had started and everyone swirled lightly with their partners. "Look how happy they are." If only Belarus would dance with him in a perfectly platonic manner.

"Yeah, makes me wanna throw up." America stuck his tongue out. "I mean, what right do they have being so happy, when you and I are stuck on the sidelines being single?"

"It is not so bad." Russia shrugged his broad shoulders. "We're having fun now, da?"

"Yeah, I guess we are." They didn't speak for a while and simply watched the others dance. Sometimes it was nice to pretend they were entirely human and that their lives were their own. "I'm glad we finally got to talk," America said. "I've missed you, big guy." That sent a rush of warmth coursing through Russia's body so great he feared his heart was going to fall out. That was a sure fire way to ruin the moment, but before he could reply in kind, he was startled when a small voice called out America's name. Not two seconds later a second nation literally materialized from thin air.

"Canada!" America's face lit up. "I was wondering what was taking you so long."

"Canada?" Russia was sure he heard of that country before, but his mind kept drawing blanks.

"I-I got lost in the bathroom." For some reason Russia had the urge to cover his vital regions when Canada's eyes fell on him. They were blue like America's, but something about them gave Canada the impression of being older and not nearly as friendly. "Oh, h-hello, Russia." His voice was baby soft and timid, but his eyes remained frigid and _fearless_.

Russia was fascinated. The two countries were almost perfectly identical. Canada's hair was just a bit longer, and a strange curl hung down his face, but other than that Russia had never seen such symmetry in two different nations.

"Russia, this is my little brother, Canada." America looped an arm around Canada's shoulders and beamed with pride. Canada shuffled his feet nervously. There was something off about him that made very cold fingers prick their way down Russia's spine. The way his body leaned towards America and how his fingertips brushed America's sleeve every second or two reminded Russia of his own little sister. Canada didn't look insane, but then neither did Belarus half the time.

"I'm actually older," the seemingly shy country said.

"Pfft, by what? Like three seconds? Doesn't matter, because I know I'm totally older. The hero is always older." America didn't seem to be afraid of him, so maybe Russia was just overthinking things. He spent most of the night in Belarus's clutches after all.

"Whatever you say, bro." Canada let out a breath of exasperation.

"It is nice to meet you," Russia said. "So you're twin nations? How strange. I've never heard of such a thing."

"We've met before, but that's okay. No one really remembers me unless they need something. Like a chair." Canada's eyes narrowed just a fraction, but it was enough for Russia to notice. _Paranoid. Just paranoid._ "And yes, it isn't very common, but since we were born around the same time, and we can't decide who's older, we must be twins then, eh?"

"Even though I'm totes the older twin," America chimed in.

"You're resemblance to each other is remarkable," Russia said. "The only nations I know with something similar are the Italys, but they are not considered twins."

"Ha, well Mattie and I have always been the odd kids out, right?" America looked at his brother expectantly.

"R-Right." Canada nervously adjusted his glasses.

Suddenly the music picked up and America's entire face lit up. "Oh man, this is my jam, dudes! For real. Russia, since you don't have a date, will you dance with me?" That was when Russia saw it. For the briefest of seconds, a dark shadow descended over Canada's face. Yet as soon as America looked over his shoulder, Canada's expression morphed back into slightly anxious innocence. "That okay with you, bro?"

"Um, y-yeah. That's fine." Canada knotted his fingers together and looked at the ground. "Have fun, Al. You deserve it." Before Russia could protest, America grabbed his hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

"America, I'm not sure it's a good idea to leave your brother." Russia glanced over his shoulder. With a look that could kill a bull elephant, Canada gripped the pillar America had been standing by, and squeezed it so hard tiny spider web cracks appeared on the marble. A boulder of ice crashed to the bottom of Russia's stomach. _Oh. My. God. _

"Eh, he'll be fine." America leaned on one foot to look back at his twin. "Isn't he the most handsome man on earth?" Russia's entire back tensed. An egotistical comment was expected, but did America not see what his little brother did to Austria's pillar? Russia looked back and saw that Canada had positioned himself in front of the damage, waving to them with a kindly smile, and completely innocent.

"Ah, he is handsome." Every instinct inside of him told him not to turn his back on the other nation, but Russia ignored this sound advice and instead returned his attention to America, who was looking up at him with genuine surprise. Russia lifted a brow. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just," America chuckled a bit, almost nervously, "Do you really think I'm handsome?" Russia didn't answer for a moment, wracking his brain for what led America to that conclusion. "I mean, I _know_ I'm handsome, but it would be nice if… uh, you know what? Never mind! Let's just dance." America looked positively frazzled. A smile forced its way onto Russia's face and he clamped his throat shut in attempts to stifle the noise. Unfortunately, the distinct sound of choked laughter was nearly impossible to hide, and it earned him a punch in the arm from America. "What's so funny?"

"You!" Russia allowed the laugh to burst from his chest and rubbed his arm. Even America's play punches had bite to them. "You're so funny and you don't even realize it!"

"I am?" America's beautiful blue eyes widened. "I-I mean, of course I am! Except I totally know it."

"You were the only one who could make me laugh." Russia wiped a tear from his eye. "When I was upset about my sisters…about everything, and…" Russia coughed uncomfortably. Why was he all of a sudden spilling his heart out like this? It was embarrassing. Sure, he missed America, but this was…

His thoughts were derailed when he felt America's warm fingers interlace with his own. "Now I'm glad _I _made an impression. Come on, you owe me a dance!" With that, America promptly stepped on his toes, and as retaliation Russia returned the favor until they weren't so much dancing as they were trying to one up the other by seeing who could land the most hits. Some things just never changed.

America's eyes were bright, playful, mischievous, and Russia realized with an almost painful jolt that he was having fun. When was the last time he had fun? He brought his boot down, but America quickly moved his foot out of the way and raised it above Russia's. Russia was too quick, however. He might have been disproportionately tall, but his mind had centuries to get catch up to his body. It was going to take more than America's irrational sense of optimism to beat him.

"You aren't going to win!" America panted and his fingers clamped down so hard, Russia's knuckles stung. "I invented square dancing!"

"That doesn't—" Russia's next words were lost in a gasp when he felt his feet tangle with someone else's.

"Hey, watch it! I'm trying to dance here!" Prussia shouted. Russia and America had been so intent on trying to stomp each other's toes into mush that they lost their balance entirely. Still holding America's hands, Russia managed to shift his weight so he stumbled backwards. He grunted when his back hit the marble of another pillar. Not a second later, America crashed into him with a yelp, and Russia was sure the impact nearly caused his ribcage to collapse.

All the air rushed out of his lungs in one loud exhale, and once America looked up at him, the air refused to come back. The other nation's face was just inches from his. Russia's lips tingled with every breath America took as blue eyes like a summer skies gazed up at him. Russia could feel his heart racing in his chest while the cold marble bit through his suit. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. He watched with fascination as America's mouth moved.

"W-What?" he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

"I asked if you were all right." America sounded just as breathless, and his blond hair was tousled across his forehead. On instinct, Russia lifted a hand and brushed the stray strands to the side. He never remembered America's hair being so soft. "R-Russia?"

"Yes?" It came out as barely a whisper. Had America's face gotten closer? His heart thrummed in his ears and he felt the lean warmth of America's body press against him further. It felt so right, and America was so close Russia could smell the other nation's cologne.

A blond blur appeared out of the corner of Russia's eye, and the larger nation jerked away in surprise when it hurled itself right at them. Whatever magic that had started to form promptly died upon America's startled cry of, "Holy shit!" and he stumbled backwards into the arms of Canada. Russia blinked at the sudden loss of warmth and nearly slid down the pillar now that America wasn't pressed against him.

"A-America, France is trying to touch my vital regions again!" Canada trembled with a tiny whimper as he clung to his brother's waist. Russia looked across the ballroom and found France preoccupied with molesting a semi-unwilling England. Judging by the state of England's rumpled clothes and the deep red color that permeated his cheeks, France had been at it for a while. Russia couldn't help but frown.

"Ugh, France really needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. Seriously, my kids learn that in kindergarten." America sighed and pried his brother's arms away. "You okay?"

"For the most part," Canada said. "I'd rather you not leave me alone again though. You know how France is when he gets like this."

"Yeah, okay." America shot Russia an apologetic look. "Thanks for the dance." His smile turned sheepish. "I…had a lot of fun. Um, I guess you should go find your sister. She's probably wondering where you are."

"You're probably right." Russia stepped away from the wall and backed away. "We should, ah do this again sometime. If you want to, that is. I'd like to…catch up."

"Yeah, me too." America smiled, but it wasn't that slack-jawed empty-headed leer he usually wore at world meetings. It was sweet, genuine, and softened his pretty blue eyes. Russia wondered how many people had fallen just because of that smile. His heart lurched at the thought.

"America, I'm starting to get thirsty." Canada tugged on his brother's sleeve.

"Brother, at last I found you!" Belarus appeared out of the crowd holding two cups of punch. Russia smiled gratefully and took his once she had glued herself to his side once more. "America." It sounded like a dismissal rather than a greeting.

"Bye then," America said softly before he was quite literally towed away by his brother.

"Bye," Russia whispered back as he watched him go.

**nnnnn**

The next week and new year came with another meeting at America's house. After enjoying the ball, it was time to be nations again. Everyone seemed to have something to talk about. Russia sat in his usual seat, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of America to really add much to the conversations fluttering around him. He could still feel America's soft blond hair on the tips of his fingers, and see the way his blue eyes glittered in the chandelier light. In just that short span of time, Russia had found the friend he made so long ago, the friend he thought he lost forever.

He hadn't even realized the meeting began and stared at the opposite wall, smiling. He could feel it on his face, but he always smiled so he didn't try to hide it. Both South and North Italy were cowering in their chairs next to him, but he didn't mind so much. He continued to play last week in his head, reliving every moment and feeling. In just that brief span of time, Russia never remembered being that happy. Never did he let himself forget that he was the embodiment of the Russian Federation first and foremost, and Ivan Braginsky second. Yet with America, or rather, Alfred, Ivan had taken over completely. He hadn't been acting like a fool with a rival nation, but had been spending quality time with his friend.

His reverie was interrupted when he felt someone watching him. He blinked and saw that America was glancing at him every so often out of the corner of his eye while Germany gave his presentation. Russia swallowed roughly and trained his eyes on Germany, determined to at least pay a little bit of attention. Everyone else might have never taken these meetings seriously, but usually Germany had something of importance to say.

Russia nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He automatically looked to America, but the other nation was no longer watching him. Instead his northern brother had taken up the responsibility and Russia was sure if looks could kill, he would be a radioactive mushroom cloud. Deciding to ignore it, he took out his phone underneath the table and read the message.

_dude, we should totes go 4 mcdonalds after this. _Russia wrinkled his nose in disgust. Although the McDonald's in Moscow was all right on some occasions, Russia had heard stories about America's. Angry high school kids who had to take people's orders all day tended to do awful things to the food. Still, he was surprised America wanted to spend time with him so soon. Maybe he wasn't alone in thinking they could rekindle their friendship.

_How about a compromise? Starbucks for coffee? _Russia released a small breath when his thumb hit send. America responded in seconds.

_they have coffee mcdonalds. _Russia rolled his eyes and looked at America, but oddly enough, the other nation was still paying rapt attention to Germany's speech. The only indicator that he was actually texting was that one arm remained discreetly under the table. Russia had to admit that he was impressed.

_ McDonalds is gross. _

_ starbucks is expensive _

_ It's sanitary. _

_ fine :P Meet u after meeting in lobby _

Russia smiled again, feeling victorious. This was absolutely perfect! Now he had something to look forward to besides returning home alone with Belarus.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Russia was ready to take his leave when he felt someone tap his shoulder. It was surprising. No one ever approached him, let alone touched him. What took him aback further was that the daring person was England.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Russia asked after a moment of awkward staring. England refused to look at him directly, his very distinct brows furrowed so that they nearly connected.

"_I can't believe I'm doing this_," he heard England mutter under his breath. The shorter nation looked up and drew himself to his full height, sadly a few inches below Russia's chin. "Look, Russia, I know we don't get along. At all. But I've noticed America has taken a liking to you."

"Oh?" Russia smiled. "Jealous are we?"

"Hardly." England scoffed. "I'm actually doing you a favor. So listen up."

"You have my attention." This was too cute. England was playing the protective older brother mixed with the jealous lover routine. On any other occasion Russia would simply smile oh-so-sweetly until England wet himself and ran, but since he was in a good mood, he'd humor him.

"Don't pursue anything with America." England held his eyes. The way he spoke didn't sound like a threat. Still, what else could it be? A warning? Russia banished the thought. This was England aka Mr. Special Relationship. He was bound to be jealous of anyone expressing interest in his former charge.

"And why not?" Russia leaned forward, relishing the feel of his pipe within the folds of his coat.

"It's not worth it," England said. "Trust me when I say you're just going to get hurt."

"Oh, so America would hurt me?" Russia asked with a frown.

"_He _won't, but _someone _will." England set his jaw and admirably kept eye contact. Russia had to admire his tenacity. It was no wonder he was a vast empire back in the day.

"Oh, you think you can hurt me?" Russia laughed. "Must we resort to schoolboy heroics?"

"I'm trying to save you from yourself, you bloody fool!" England's green eyes blazed. "America has never been in an actual relationship."

"He hasn't?" Russia's smile slackened. That wasn't something he was expecting to hear.

"No, he hasn't, and there's a _very _good reason why. So unless you want to end up looking like a complete arse, you'll let America down gently and go about your business." Russia could clearly imagine little puffs of smoke coming out of England's ears, but as humorous as it was, America didn't belong to England anymore.

"I want to be America's friend again," Russia said with finality. The time for poking fun and smiles had passed. If England wanted him to state his intentions, then Russia would oblige him. "Anything beyond that is none of your business." He expected England to turn an unnatural color and explode with every ounce of fury stored in his body. He braced himself for the death threats, curses, and flying cutlasses, but what actually happened nearly caused Russia to topple over in utter disbelief.

England very calmly adjusted his tie and released a long-suffering sigh. "Well, I tried. That's my good deed for the next decade." Then with his nose in the air, England stepped around him and headed towards the door.

"H-Hold on!" Russia had been ready for a fight and the adrenaline caused his voice to waver. "That's it? You're not going to threaten me?" He couldn't help but feel a tad disappointed.

"I tried to warn you." England continued to walk. "Now it's your funeral." He left, and Russia was alone in the meeting room. After a moment, the air temperature seemed to have dropped and Russia got the eerie vibe that someone was watching him.

"Belarus?" he questioned. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was uncomfortable and his chest strained with anxiety. Then as if to answer his question, one of the double doors to the room began to close, revealing America standing on its other side.

"No, it's just little old me." Had he been hiding behind the door the entire time? Weren't they supposed to meet in the lobby? Something was off. Russia squinted at him, and noticed his hair was slightly longer and parted more towards the middle of his forehead. That strange curl of hair stuck up and hung down his face. Wait. No. This person wasn't America. This was America's northern twin, whatever his name was.

"Oh, hello again. Did you hear all that, uh..?" Russia took a step back as America's brother took one towards him.

"Canada." The other nation smiled sweetly with his arms folded behind his back. The effect was meant to be cutesy and timid, but Russia sensed something was wrong. There was a rigidness in Canada's posture that reminded him of a dog ready to lunge. "And yes I did. England is right you know. You shouldn't be anywhere near my precious little brother."

"I thought America was older."

"In his mind he is."

"Right." Russia reached into the folds of his coat and felt the reassuring metal of his faucet pipe. Canada was acting in a similar manner to Belarus. The only difference was, where Belarus was prone to fits of uncontrollable rage, every move Canada made was calculated, deliberate and most of all, conscious. That made him ten times more dangerous. "Why shouldn't I be near America?" Russia asked.

"Because I don't approve," Canada said kindly. His smile turned shy and he brought his hands in front of his chest. "But then, I never approve of any of you." His fingers wrung together out of what might have been anxiousness or anticipation. "You see, I'm very sorry to say this, but don't like you very much, Russia." Canada paused and giggled timidly. His eyes drifted to the side, and his gentle smile began to fray around the edges. "Oh maple, I should probably be more honest than that." His eyes met Russia's. "The truth is, I find myself _really _hating you."

Then just like that, everything England said sank in. The reason America had never been in a relationship was staring him right in the face. "You hate me because I want to be America's friend?" Russia wrapped his fingers around his pipe. He was undoubtedly going to get the fight he'd been looking for.

"Don't pull that silliness now." Canada wagged a finger. The shy exoskeleton was starting to give way to something far more threatening. "You were very mean to Alfred during the Cold War. Why would you want to be friends now?"

"Because we were friends before." Russia took another step back. "I want to be friends again."

"You don't want to be friends." Canada took one step, stopped and seemed to consider something, and then took another. Russia felt his heart climb into his throat. "No, I saw you eyeing him last night. Eyeing him like a piece of meat."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you know very well." Canada eyes drifted to the space between them and he charged. Russia concluded that this nation was insane along with incredibly stupid. Only America had the gall to charge him head on and still have the muscle to back it up.

Canada was a wimp. Hell, hardly anyone remembered he existed, that was how little of an impression he made. Yet, Russia gasped when Canada caught his wrist just as he was about to bring the pipe down on his head. It was like being caught by a steel trap. Canada's arm didn't even budge when Russia tried to yank away.

"Now listen here, buddy." Canada gripped the front of Russia's coat and yanked him forward until they were nearly nose to nose. Russia tried to resist, but it was useless. Apparently being twin nations meant more than just sharing looks. Canada was every bit as strong as America. "I put up with this woobie-boobie-cutesy-helpless little brother act, because it makes America happy. That being said, I'm no brute, but when it comes to creeps like you trying to take advantage of him, that's what makes my temper short."

"I'm not trying to—" Russia's voice cut off when Canada's grip around his wrist tightened. The pain caused him to nearly drop his pipe.

"Please don't interrupt me when I'm trying to have a civil conversation with you. I'd hate to snap your wrist in half. Now, I can accept you wanting to be friends with Alfred, but I swear, if I even _think_ you're going to do something to hurt him, you'll be very sorry, mister! And if you _do_ manage to hurt him," Canada's expression twisted into something that chilled Russia to the bone. He was an old country who had seen plenty of madmen in his day, and at the moment, Canada's face belonged among them. When he spoke again it was in a light whisper and he jerked Russia closer, "If you hurt him, I'll shove a hockey stick so far down your throat, it will come out your derriere, and I'll be using your kidneys as pucks."

"Derriere?" Russia repeated. _"Really?" _

"Nasty words are unnecessary in any kind of situation, and I think you get my point." Canada eased off a bit and Russia gladly took the room he was allowed. "I'll be watching you very closely, Russia." Then Canada released him and Russia practically threw himself backwards. He wasn't used to being overpowered.

Russia hadn't been successfully intimidated since he was a child, and being threatened by _Canada_ of all nations made something in him rage. His wrist still throbbed from Canada's bruising grip, but his fingers tightened around the pipe. The other nation might have had inhuman strength, but he didn't have the centuries of experience to deal with a tactical genius. If he was anything like his brother, it wouldn't be hard to tire him out then show him who was going to shove what where.

However, all thoughts of revenge were cut off when Russia saw America walk through the door. "Russia, there you are!" America called from the other side of the room. "I was waiting in the lobby forever!"

"O-Oh, America!" Canada's voice was quiet and gentle as always. "Russia and I were just having a talk about how cold our houses are."

"Ha ha, of course that would be something _you'd _make small talk over." America walked up to his brother and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Sorry if Mattie here was boring you to tears." He smiled up at Russia. "He tends not to realize when he wanders into Dullsville."

"Believe me," Russia forced a shaky smile, "he was anything but boring."

"So, are you ready to go?" America asked eagerly.

"Go?" Canada blinked innocently at his brother, his sweet smile never wavering. "You and Russia are going somewhere together?" Having seen Canada's true colors, Russia heard the dark undercurrent hidden in the soft tone of his voice.

"Yeah, just to get coffee before we head back to the hotel with everyone else." America raised an eyebrow when Canada's left eyelid twitched. "You okay, bro? You look kind of… twitchy."

"No, no!" Canada held up his hands. "You know how nervous I get wandering around in other countries alone. You go on and have fun with..._Russia._" He said it through gritted teeth and shot Russia a dark glare.

"You're the best brother in the world!" America threw his arms around his twin. "Not to mention the sexiest!"

"Yeah right." Canada rolled his eyes. "Go on and abandon me. I'll be all right."

"Aw, don't be that way." America pouted and pinched this brother's cheeks. "I'm sure Prussia would be more than happy to walk you to your room. I'll even let you make me pancakes tomorrow to make it up to you."

"Sounds great." Canada smiled and gently pushed America away. "You take care, now. Please don't do stupid stuff."

"Come on, Russia." America took his hand and hurried towards the door. Russia risked one last look at Canada. The other nation's expression was murderous as he lifted two fingers to his eyes before turning them towards Russia. He was watching, and Russia swallowed, tightening his grip on America's hand. He was no stranger to psychotic siblings. It was going to take more than that to scare him off.

So game on.

**nnnn**

When he and America had situated themselves on the top floor of the Starbucks, Russia couldn't help but grimace as America poured even more sugar into his chocolaty concoction.

"How are you still alive?" he found himself asking once America took the first sip.

"Because I'm a titan, that's why," America replied. "Besides, sugar's so good! Why deny yourself the happiness?"

"Because I value my heart health," Russia said pleasantly.

"Dude, your heart falls out of your chest like all the time!"

"All the more reason to value it, da?"

"Sure bro, be all repressed with your boring old coffee."

"I'll have you know that this particular drink has a name I can't pronounce," Russia said. "I'm not even sure what's in it. I think that's very daring." To his pleasure America laughed and patted the top of his hand.

"It's really nice to hear you happy." America's eyes were hypnotic. "I thought we'd lost you for awhile there."

"Lost me?" Russia vaguely heard himself say.

"You were really scary for a long time, big guy." America pulled his hand back, and Russia really wished he wouldn't. "Lithuania was really messed up when he came to live with me."

"Ah." Russia looked down at his unpronounceable drink, feeling shame overwhelm him. "Yes, I was lucky he forgave me." America reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket and coughed unnecessarily.

"I have something for you, but if you don't want it back, I totally understand." It was all said in a rush, and America's teeth sank into his lower lip as he withdrew something from his pocket. Russia's eyes widened when America's hand opened to reveal the silver casing of a Zippo lighter. However, it wasn't just any Zippo. He recognized the scuffed surface and the long scratch that went from the lid to the end. America had given it to him in World War II under the foolish notion that if they couldn't get along as countries, they could still be friends as people.

Russia reached out a shaky hand and took the lighter, cradling it as if it were something precious. It felt heavy in his palms and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. He had loved this lighter. He couldn't count how many times he flipped the lid in moments of sheer boredom. During the Cold War he quite literally tossed it back in America's face. It was the first and only time during their long conflict that America had been close to tears. Before, that moment had been a staple to Russia's pride, now it only made him feel like a monster.

He couldn't believe America would ever give it back to him. The only thing that made this more touching was that he kept it all these years.

"Thank you," he said at last, hating the way his voice cracked. He brought the lighter closer to his chest and absentmindedly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Thank you…for trusting me with this again."

"No prob, dude. Just don't cry or you'll get me started, and that's not heroic at all." America took off his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. "Now don't go lighting anything on fire." His eyes widened in realization and a very mischievous smile appeared. "On second thought, England was kind enough to give me a plate of his homemade scones." America braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, his eyes blazing with ideas. "How about you and I go see if this baby still works? I just refilled it and everything."

Russia considered this for a moment, before he felt his own smile form. "You know America, I hate to say this, but I find myself liking the way you think."

Unfortunately, it turned out to be a horrible idea, for when the flames touched England's cooking, the smoke that arose was more like tear gas. Russia felt as if his lungs were dissolving as he and America fled down another alley away from the steaming plate of unmentionable horrors. At least they had the sense to do it outside, but it appeared America's irrational thinking was starting to rub off. He made a mental note to watch that.

It wasn't until they reached the hotel that they stopped, disintegrating into peels of uncontrollable laughter and coughing. "Oh, my God!" America managed to gasp out between several coughs and laughs. "Oh my God, I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" He placed his hands on his knees.

"Don't die!" Russia clutched his chest and wrapped an arm around America's shoulders, drawing the other nation against his side. "I think…I think we just found a new weapon of mass destruction!" Russia was sure he cracked a rib with the force of his laughter.

"It least the lighter works!" It took awhile, but finally their laughter calmed enough to let them sit against the side of the building and look up at the night sky, their hands limply at their sides. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

"Me neither." Russia toyed with the Zippo, smiling down at the familiar flame.

"It's nice to see you actually smile, and not that creepy I-wanna-eat-your-soul smile." America playfully jabbed Russia's side with his elbow. Russia chuckled, the warmth in his chest lingering even when he thought back to Canada's warning. His wrist still hurt from where the other nation grabbed him, not to mention the joint felt a tad swollen, but he'd been doing a pretty good job of hiding it. "America, you and your brother are very close, are you not?"

"As close as we can be," America said. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think…he'd approve of…this?" Russia immediately regretted saying anything. Could he be any more transparent?

"Of us being bros? Why wouldn't he?" America tilted his head.

"I don't know, he seems a little, um," Russia searched for the correct word. "High strung."

"Who? Canada?" America said it with a laugh. "Are you sure we're talking about the same country here? The only thing that gets him riled up is a good game of hockey." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You won't believe how many times I've had to bail his ass out of jail. He tends to throw cars at people when he gets tipsy. There was one time I had to stop him from ripping the wings off of the opposing team's plane. Now _that _was crazy."

"He can do that?" Russia asked, feeling that frozen boulder in his stomach again.

"Of course!" America replied cheerfully. "He's my little brother after all! Even if he is a bit of a wuss."

"I would not like to have cars thrown at me," Russia said. America had brute strength, but he didn't have the brains, which made them on equal grounds. Russia didn't know Canada very well, but he appeared to have more brains than his brother. It would take more than just tiring him out to beat him.

"Aw, Canada wouldn't hurt a fly," America said. "Trust me. My brother is the most selfless, gentle person I've ever known." Something in America's eyes dimmed with sadness and his gaze fell to his knees.

"You okay?" Russia felt a twinge of concern. It wasn't right seeing America sad.

"Yeah, and I feel like … I should tell you this…since we're trying to be friends and all." America sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward to glare into Russia's eyes. "And if you repeat a word of what I'm about to say to anyone, I'll tell Ukraine that it was you who stole the last potato at Belarus's birthday when you were little!"

"You promised!" Russia exclaimed. "And how do you even remember? I said that nearly a century ago!"

"I told you, I'm a freaking titan. Now do we have a deal?" America continued to glare at him, his mouth sealed into a tight line.

"Okay, your secret will be safe with me. Just don't tell Katyusha about the potato thing. It will break her heart."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Stick a needle in my eye." The saying gave him a large wave of nostalgia. He never quite got what it was supposed to mean, but it always seemed to earn America's trust.

"Deal then." America sat back against the wall and curled his knees to his chest. "Ugh." He buried his face in his arms. "This is humiliating," he muttered and lifted his head. "When I was little…I was…I was…a crybaby."

"A crybaby?" Russia tilted his head. "Surely it wasn't that bad."

"Yeah it was. When I say crybaby, I mean worse than Italy. I'd cry about the stupidest things and I was so soft-hearted that it made it worse."

"You? Soft-hearted?"

"Yeah. I even had a bunny, the most girly animal on the planet." America shuddered. "The main reason that I became England's colony was because he was crying, if you can believe that. He and France were fighting over whose brother I was, and when England started crying, I had to go with him."

"Trying to be a hero even when you were young." Russia tapped the side of his boot against America's. The younger nation smiled, but it quickly faded.

"Yeah. I loved England. Still do, really. Even if he is a self-centered nag." America crossed his arms over his chest. "But he wasn't around a whole lot. Sometimes he would leave for years at a time. The house where he kept me was big, too big, and it was empty and lonely. I used to imagine that there were ghosts and monsters in certain rooms. There wasn't anyone to talk to, and when night came, it was always so scary.

"Then England started talking about me having a twin brother up north. That's when he started leaving for longer periods of time to fight France in the Seven Years War. Then in around 1763, he got France to sign the Treaty of Paris which forced him to give up all his colonies here, including Canada. For the first time, it felt like I wasn't alone, but then England still left. I would cry for so long until I made myself sick."

"That's awful." Russia thought back to all the times he cried as a child. The hardest was when he had been separated from Ukraine and forced to suffer through the Mongols.

"Yeah, but Canada knew what to do to make me feel better. He'd hug me, pet my hair, and sing me to sleep. He was always there for me, even though...even though I never considered how hard it was for him. He'd been taken from France, and England basically forgot he existed once he had him. I was always the favorite, and Canada was just my reflection. The only time England seemed to know Canada was around was when he punished him for speaking French." America drew his legs in even closer. "I can't imagine how he must have felt, but he never complained or got mad at me for being selfish and acting like it was the end of the world every time England left. He was just there." America smiled, though it wavered. "Sometimes, I think he really is the older brother."

"He took care of you." Russia's chest ached with his own memories. Ukraine had done everything for him and Belarus when it had just been the three of them wandering the snowy fields of their lands.

"Yeah he did," America said. "I didn't even realize how sad he was until England left again. He was looking over some French novel I can't remember. I figure England forgot to burn it because it looked old even way back then." America wiped the back of his hand underneath his glasses, but his smile still stayed in place. "I stopped crying, because for once Canada had tears in his eyes too. That's when he asked me…" America choked, but he covered it with a half-hearted chuckle. "That's when he asked me if it was okay if he didn't hold it in anymore. I said he didn't have to, and for the first time I was the big brother. He cried harder than I ever did. God, he missed France _so __much_ and I didn't even know. I was so wrapped up in wanting England's attention that I didn't see how much Canada was hurting. It would have been like England leaving and never coming back and just...forgetting about me."

"Why are you trying to laugh when you want to cry?" Russia reached out to him, but thought better of it.

"Because I've cried enough." America kept his smile firmly in place, but continued to furiously wipe beneath his glasses. America lowered his hands. His eyes were slightly red, but there were no tears. "For a long time it was just me and Canada in that big house all alone, but that was okay because we had each other. From that moment on, I promised to never cry again. I would carry his pain like he carried mine. I promised to protect him no matter what, and I broke that promise during the War of 1812. I hurt him so badly. I said all sorts of horrible things to him, because he didn't want to be with me and stayed with England. I just...I didn't realize how much of a monster I became in that war. So, I have to do better."

Russia was beginning to understand. Like a puzzle, a new piece was added to America's loud, boisterous personality, forming a picture Russia found remarkable. The need to be a hero wasn't for glory or self-fulfillment, but truly for the sake of others. "Is this where all your hero talk comes from?"

America nodded. "If I'm a hero, I get to help people instead of burdening them. I made it so hard for Canada back then, and now he doesn't have any confidence in himself. He's so sad all the time because no one pays attention to him. I clung to him so much that it broke him down." He grinned and gave a thumbs up. "So now I'm the hero! I don't need to cry anymore, because heroes are strong and brave and—"

Russia wasn't sure what made him to do it, and he was going to regret it, but at the moment he didn't care. Cupping America's face in his hands, Russia kissed him. It was gentle and brief, but it made something tighten in his chest. A part of him despaired at his own stupidity, while everything else took in the softness of America's lips and the warm fresh scent of his skin tinged with England's burning scones. When he pulled away, it was like he hadn't breathed in hours.

"You know, I get what you're feeling." Russia looked down at his knees, not wanting to see America's face. He smiled and stood, brushing his hands over the seat of his pants. "When we were young, my sister did everything for Belarus and I. To be honest, I was a bit of a crybaby too." He kept his eyes on the brick of the opposite building. If he pretended what he did never happened, then maybe America would let it slide. "It was…easily taken advantage of, but my sister always knew what to do, and I betrayed her as well." He took a deep breath. "I did such horrible things to her that her boss won't even let her talk to me."

"Russia." America's voice was soft and he heard the other nation stand.

"You and I, we are not as different as we like to think." Russia tilted his head back and held the end of his scarf. "I clung to her because I just couldn't stand on my own. She was so strong back then and I was always scared and didn't believe in myself. She gave me this scarf so I would help her make Kiev prosper." He chuckled softly. "I…didn't keep my end of the bargain for a while."

"Hey." He felt America take hold of his sore wrist and jerked before he could stop himself. The bruises throbbed in protest and Russia instinctively held it to his chest. "Oh, sorry! Are you hurt?" America's voice was full of alarm.

"N-Nyet!" Russia turned around still holding his wrist. "I'm fine! Really! It's just a—"

"Let me see." America's eyes held a determined glint as he reached out and took Russia's hand. He lifted the sleeve and hissed through his teeth. "Wow."

"It looks worse than it feels." Russia attempted to remove his hand from America's clutches.

"Dude, your entire wrist is covered in bruises." America's expression was full of concern. "What happened?"

"I fell." Russia refused to look America in the eye. He'd always been a terrible liar. He didn't have to do it very often since the thought of anyone interrogating him was laughable, but what else was he supposed to say? Canada was a saint in America's eyes, and after the story he just shared, he couldn't tarnish that.

"Yeah, whatever. You can sure keep secrets but you can't lie for shit." America sighed. "Let's at least get some ice on this. Oh, and one more thing." Russia felt America's hand rest on his cheek and nearly melted when the shorter nation tilted his head back and kissed him. Just like the one before it was sweet, gentle and quick. Yet, he lingered and Russia relished the warmth. When America pulled back there was an unmistakable twinkle in those ridiculously blue eyes. "I figured I owed you one." He winked.

"I am not sure what to say to that." Russia blinked, dazed and wondering if he had died and gone to some parallel universe where something like this could happen.

"Then don't say anything," America whispered and entwined their fingers. "Come on. Let's go ice that wrist of yours."

**nnnn**

When Russia finally got into his car after a wonderful night, his smile was so wide it was starting to make his cheeks sting. Everything had been perfect, from America doting on him to the events that followed. After parting company, an hour later America came back to his room claiming to have flipped the channel to a scary movie. Russia undoubtedly needed his protection and the larger nation had complied all too eagerly. He had woken up the next morning to the other nation had wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and curled into his side. It was too sweet. The best part was he didn't run into Canada.

He almost didn't want to go back to his house, but he had a plane to catch, and people to look after. With a sigh he started the ignition. America promised he'd text, and though Russia wasn't entirely sure what their relationship was anymore, it was best not to press it.

"So I've been reading up on your history, and I have to say, Russia, I'm not impressed."

"Yebat!" Russia swore in his own language and nearly jumped out of his seat. He unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted around to see Canada sitting in the back. A large Russian history book was propped in one hand while he leafed through the pages with the other. A tiny white bear rested on his lap. It stared at Russia curiously. "How the hell did you get into my car?"

"That's not important." Canada eyed him over the rims of his glasses. "However, what is important is that your history is rather terrifying. Good gravy, so many wars and revolutions. You had a civil war in 1917 and the Bolshevik Revolution — now that is some bloody material."

"Is that a history book?"

"Indeed." Canada closed the book with a snap. "Golly, out of all the countries after a piece of American pie, you are by far the worst."

"Excuse me, but what?"

"Listen, I've been chasing all you power hungry hosers away from my poor brother for centuries." Canada lowered the book and reached down to pick up a hockey stick. "England, Romano, China, Japan, Denmark, Vietnam, Germany…"

"Wait, _Germany _tried to date America?" Russia needed some brain bleach for the images that one conjured.

"I had to chase Mexico off three times," Canada continued on as if Russia hadn't spoken. "Then there was Prussia, who made America think he liked him, when I know all he really wanted was to be the first one to violate a superpower's virtue. He's gross like that with all his talk of vital regions, but Lithuania was the worst by far."

"You chased away _Lithuania?" _Russia looked at Canada in horror.

"He took up all my brother's time and energy, and I knew whatever relationship would form between them would have been ruined by _you._" Canada's eyes narrowed into slits and he gripped the back of Russia's seat. With one yank, Russia was pulled back with the curved end of the hockey stick at his throat. "And now here you are, the one who drove America crazy all through the Cold War, playing with his heart. You're sick, do you know that?"

"_I'm _the sick one?" Russia stared up at Canada with an annoyed scowl. "You've destroyed your brother's chances of ever having a relationship."

"No, I've protected my brother!" The pressure from the hockey stick increased. "I hear you all at meetings. None of you realize I'm there, but I hear the things you all say. You think he's loud, annoying and obnoxious, but you still want to try your hand at deflowering him. The world is out to hurt him, and if you think for a second I'm going to let that happen, you are sadly mistaken, guy."

"Forgive me for saying this," Russia began softly, "but you are insane! And that's coming from me!"

"I saw him kiss you last night." Canada's face darkened further. "You let him too. So much for just wanting to be friends."

"You…are really creepy," Russia said. "Is that all you have time for? Ruining your brother's life?"

"It's all you who want to ruin it," Canada said. "I've protected him ever since we were little. I will not let you penetrate his posterior and toss him to the side like garbage. Don't you understand how much that would kill him? Do you even care?"

"I admit, at one point your fears might have been valid, but that's not what this is about." Russia glared into Canada's eyes. "Everything is different now."

"Don't bother lying to me again. I know that's what you want — some cheap fling with the idiot country who can't control his own strength and power. You want to knock him down a peg or two, right?" That's when Russia saw it. Beneath all the anger, there was fear. Canada was afraid, but of what Russia didn't entirely know.

"Wrong." He gripped either side of the hockey stick and managed to push it several inches away from his neck before Canada refused to budge further. "I care about him! I was the only one who believed in him during his Civil War when, if I remember correctly, even you turned your back on him."

"Well I won't make that mistake again," Canada hissed through his teeth. "You stay away from him. I saw what you did to the Baltics, your sisters, and to your own people. I will never let you do that to Alfred. He's _mine._" Canada drew back and struggled with the door.

"It's locked." Russia sat up. "Here let me—" Shrieking metal and a loud snap interrupted him. "Or just rip the door off of this very expensive car. That works too." Canada glared at him and got out, dropping the door and stalking away with the hockey stick and little bear in tow.

Russia groaned and slammed his forehead into the steering wheel. His boss was going to kill him.

* * *

Dun dun dun! Shit will get real in the final installment. Thank you so much for reading! LUCKY I LOVE YOU! MAKE GOOD LIFE CHOICES AND HAPPY 3 YEARS BELATED BIRTHDAY! Stay tuned for Canada and Russia's epic bitch fight!

Also, for America and Canada's ages, there seems to be a lot of debate as to which brother is older. It's one of the main reasons I'm a big supporter of the twin theory and that in their respective minds, Canada and America both assume they're the older brother.


	2. Lunch Break You Die

Thank you guys so much for the super fantastic reviews! Unfortunately, this story ran away from me when it kept insisting that Canada had some deep issues of his own that needed to be dealt with. So there will be a third part, which is already done, but needs to be revised. Oi. At least I don't owe Lucky any more fics after this. So for you 14th Birthday I missed! Here you go! Oh, and it's ridiculously long. Woot.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own shit! *Tosses chapter out and flies off of a building using scotch tape and my obese cat*

* * *

"Wow, your boss was that mad about a stupid car?" America asked over Skype.

"Yes." Russia tilted his head back and took another swig of vodka. "You know, I'm old enough to be his grandfather a thousand times over. You'd think he wouldn't get off on treating me like a child."

"Yeah, well, you know how humans are." America laughed and Russia found it sad at how poorly it translated through the computer. Even America's one thousand kilowatt smile was dimmed by the quality of his webcam. "And how much vodka have you guzzled down since you got home?"

"Why do you ask?" Russia asked after another drink.

"Well, you get on me about heart health, when that crap will make your liver shrivel up like a raisin." America tilted his head. "You know if I was over there, we'd do something fun. Like go to that cool swirly castle thing. I'm so going to climb it!"

"For the last time, it's called St. Basil's Cathedral and you'd be arrested on the spot." Russia's lips quirked in a sideways smile and he resisted the urge to touch the outline of America's face.

"Uh huh." America waved a hand. "So you sure you're okay, or am I going to have to hop a flight to Moscow and flip shit? You know I will."

"I'm sure that would put a damper on our diplomatic relations, so though I appreciate the offer, I'll have to pass." Russia let his chin rest on his hand. "We all know how bosses are."

"Yeah—" America was interrupted by a crash from his end. "Yo Matthew, you okay down there?" He called over his shoulder.

"Your brother is at your house?" Russia's jaw clenched.

"Yeah, he came home with me after the meetings, and hasn't left yet. Since we're eight hours behind you, it's breakfast time for North America!" America threw his fists in the air. "And let me tell you, no one makes better pancakes than my Mattie! Dude, next time you find yourself stateside, you should totally mosey on over."

"That sounds great." It sounded like a good way to get poisoned.

"Al, who are you talking to?" Canada's voice carried faintly over the computer's speakers.

"Just Russia," America called back. Russia resisted the urge to slap a hand to his face. Sure enough, Canada poked his head through the door and bent over America's shoulder to peer into the screen. His kind smile was so convincing that if Russia hadn't been threatened by him, he would have been fooled into thinking it was genuine.

"Oh, hello there." Canada waved and closed his eyes pleasantly. "Breakfast is almost ready, America."

"Aw, bro. You're the best. Just give me a minute here, okay? I'll be down in a sec." He rubbed his knuckles across the top of Canada's head. The other pulled away with a soft laugh and backed away until he stood in the doorway. America smiled at Russia. "I'll talk to you later, okay? We need to hang out again."

"Yeah, we do. It's been so long, and we've both changed so much." Russia nervously toyed with the faucet of his pipe when Canada took out a small doll from the front pocket of his hoodie.

"All the more reason," America said. The doll in Canada's hands looked a lot like Russia.

"Next meeting we'll figure something out." Russia trained his eyes on America, determined not to let Canada ruin the moment, but was able to see him gripping the doll's head out of the corner of his eye.

"Russia, I um," America rubbed the back of his head and smiled bashfully. "I uh…" Canada promptly ripped the head off of the doll.

"Well, I'd hate to keep you from breakfast!" Russia said cheerfully. "I think I heard Belarus downstairs so I better go get my fort ready!"

"Okay." America sounded as if he were both relieved and disappointed.

"Brother, I have completed your supper." Russia instinctively flinched. Speak of the devil. Belarus stood in the doorway, her hands crossed demurely in front of her. She stepped into the room, silent and graceful. However, Russia calmed when he saw no hard edge to her violet eyes. This might be a good night.

"Hey, Bela!" America called from the computer screen. Belarus blinked and placed her hand on Russia's shoulder. He suppressed the sudden whimper manifesting itself. Even if she wasn't acting crazy, she could turn at the drop of a dime.

"America," she said. "What are you doing talking to brother?"

"We're trying to be friends again," America said. "It's going great so far! Pretty soon you can come over again and we can restart our General Hospital marathons!" Russia looked at his sister curiously. She had lived with America for a while after the Soviet Union collapsed, but never spoke about it.

"Has Laura come to terms with her killing her stepfather yet?" Belarus stared intently into the screen. Russia's mouth fell open. Was his sister actually talking to someone other than him in a civilized manner?

"She went catatonic in the mental hospital," America said sadly. "Luke was devastated. But they managed to find an experimental drug to wake her up in time for Christmas. Then it wore off."

"That is unfortunate. At least they got to be together for a little while." Russia couldn't suppress the cold chills he got from that.

"You should really visit me more often," America said. "Tony and the whale miss you." Then the strangest thing happened. Belarus, cold, withdrawn, Belarus had a ghost of a smile on her face. It wasn't the creepy leer that sent Russia screaming for the bathroom, but a true smile, and dare he think, there was a hint of warmth in her eyes. She had smiled at him like that when she was younger. It was so rare, yet Russia had yet to find anything more beautiful.

"We do still need to finish our last game of Ivanka, forest man." Belarus's eyes glinted challengingly.

"You played Ivanka together?" Russia was awed. Ivanka was a game Belarus made when they were very small. A little doll she affectionately called Ivanka was placed in the middle of a square dubbed 'the forest' then a large circle was drawn around it. The forest man's job was to guard Ivanka without leaving the square, while the other players called 'swans' tried their best to rescue Ivanka without getting caught by the forest man. They couldn't leave the circle and if they were touched they were out. Russia smiled at the memories. "We used to play it all the time when we were children. We'd always force big sis to be the forest man."

"The old tripping trick got her every time," Belarus said. "Big brother cried so convincingly he served as a perfect distraction."

"Isn't that cheating?" America tilted his head.

"You haven't played with my big sister," Russia said. "Though Belarus became quite good and I didn't need to fall so much"

"Dude, your sister is like a freaking ninja!" America moved his hands wildly. Russia found it sort of endearing. Usually he couldn't stand it when people talked with their hands. "I can't touch her! Even when I'm the swan she just like appears! She always lets Tony win though." He huffed.

"That's because I like Tony," Belarus said. "He makes for good conversation. Not to mention he's never claimed I was 'an undemocratic, oppressive, dictatorship' as you so kindly put it."

"I said that about your boss." America crossed his arms. "And no offense, but he's insane."

"Um, I hate to interrupt," Canada said, leaning over his brother's shoulder again. "But the pancakes are probably getting cold."

"You're right." America slapped a palm to his forehead. "Shit, I gotta go. Nice seeing you again, Bela! Take good care of your brother for me. You know he'd probably forget how to dress himself without you there."

"I resent that," Russia said. The thought of Belarus seeing him naked was pure nightmare fuel. "Oh, and before you go, who is hosting the next meeting? My boss hasn't gotten a memo yet."

"W-Well," this time it was Canada who spoke up. The little shit even had the gall to blush. "I am, and I'm so very excited." His icy blue eyes pieced Russia through the computer screen. "The others sometimes pay attention to me." He smiled bashfully. "I'll do my best to make it enjoyable."

Keeping his usual smile on his face, Russia clenched his fists. _Oh, I bet you will. _

**nnnn**

Upon arriving in Canada, Russia was immediately on guard. The nation himself was probably stalking him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He wasn't going to have the element of surprise. No way in hell.

Russia made his way to the baggage claim, hating the familiar feel of jet lag. He yawned, before realizing that it was a show of weakness. Canada might take it as a sign to attack. Russia stiffened and he clutched at his pipe. No way was the little monster going to get the drop on him this time. He glanced at the faces of the people walking by and realized most of them were Canada's. What if they were in on it? What if there was an entire army of Canadians about to swoop in and murder him while their nation laughed like a lunatic in the background?

America's true national defense: _Canadians_.

Russia slapped himself across the face, the sting banishing the increasingly gruesome thought. He needed to keep it together, but he hadn't been this paranoid since the Cold War. As far as he knew, he and Canada were on decent enough terms on the political sphere, but then politics and personal life hardly meshed well.

"Hey, Ivan!" The sound of his human name caused him to turn.

"Oh, Alfred it's good to see you." All the tension melted out of his shoulders and back. Canada wasn't going to attack with his brother nearby.

"Ha, that's an improvement from 'Privet, fat ass.' I gotta say I like it." America brought him into a one armed hug and Russia realized that he was wearing the same cologne from the night of the Christmas ball.

"And I prefer hugs to the old 'commie bastard' greeting. Cute though it was." Russia tightened his hold on the other nation and let his chin rest on America's shoulder. It was indulgent, and his entire body protested when America moved back to give him his award winning smile. Russia was dazed only for a second before he realized that America was here rather early. "Did you just get off the plane as well?"

"Nah, I've been here a few days. Matthew wanted me to come with him when he left for home and I decided why not?" He shrugged. "But dude, I found the greatest thing in the world. Hold on a sec!" It was then Russia noticed he was carrying a messenger bag. America reached into it and pulled out a clunky box with Mickey Mouse and a villainous looking, fat cat thing on the cover. Russia scanned the title of the box.

"Magical Tetris," he read aloud. He took it from America and looked it over. "This is Tetris?"

"Uh huh! I've had this game since the 90s! We should go over to my hotel room and play it! I just found it again after cleaning my attic."

"So this is like Tetris with your Disney characters." Russia studied the strange fat cat thing glaring at Mickey Mouse. He lowered the box and found America's smile eerily similar to Mickey's.

"Yeah, it's like the best of both worlds!" America took the game back and held it fondly at eye level. "I love this game, but on the hardest level, I could never beat the final boss, Pete." America pointed to the fat cat thing.

"Oh?"

"And well, since you're the Tetris master, you know, since one of your people made it and all, I figure we'd have time to play through a good story mode. Luckily my Nintendo 64 is still in tip top shape."

Russia smirked. "I would have thought you'd have moved on to one of those bigger shinier game consoles."

"No, I could never get rid of my 64!" America placed a hand over his heart as if the very thought caused it to break. "Japan gave it to me for my birthday. So come on, want to give this baby a try?"

"I guess we could." Russia could never turn down a game of Tetris. He was earlier than expected, the meeting wasn't for another few hours, and America was so earnest he practically glowed. Screw Canada and his army of people wanting to disembowel him. "Let us go."

The hotel wasn't far, and despite past issues, sitting in the back of a car with America wasn't nearly as awkward as he thought it was going to be. It helped that other nation hadn't stopped talking since they left the airport, gushing over this and that. Russia listened just like he used to. It was exhausting to some, but Russia always liked listening to people talk. Fights at meetings were the best. Everyone together always made him oddly happy.

"And then he takes these big ass blocks and ruins everything!" America said as they walked through the hotel lobby. "Stupid Pete." Russia hated to admit it, but Canada had outdone himself. The hotel was beautiful, complete with a miniature fountain out front and well-dressed staff who were more than happy to give him his key and take his luggage to his room for him.

"This place is nice." Russia boots sank into the plush carpet as they trailed down the well-lit halls. The décor was light and tasteful, complimenting the winter month with various depictions of horse-drawn carriages.

"Yeah, Matthew's too French for his own good." America beamed proudly despite the backhanded compliment. When they made it two floors up in the elevator, America took out his card key and swiped it. The door opened to reveal a lavish room, complete with a king sized bed and a couch with silk throw pillows. It even had a balcony that looked over the expanse of Ottawa. A large flat screened television hung on the wall like a large painting. The only thing that was distinctly America was the tangle of wires streaming from its front and connected to several different video game consoles sprawled across a fancy coffee table.

"Wow, this place is nicer than my apartment." Russia walked down the hall and peeked into the bathroom. It had a hot tub. That was something he was going to need by the end of the day, he was sure of it.

"You live in an apartment?" America followed him. "I thought you lived in a mansion or something."

"I did back when everyone was around." Russia fiddled with the ends of his scarf. "I found it a little unnerving to stay in a place so big when it was just me." He turned around and forced his mouth into some semblance of a smile. The last thing he wanted was to darken the mood with his long since dead and buried abandonment issues. "I don't need that much space, and it's much easier to maintain an apartment in Moscow than a big house."

"Yeah, I get that." America said, and Russia had no doubt he did. "Anyway, let's get this Tetris party started." Russia was grateful that America hadn't pushed him for details. It had to have taken a lot of self-restraint on his part, and he busied himself with turning on the enormous television and plunging the game into the 64. "I call first challenge!"

"Go ahead. I'll judge your technique." Russia took a seat next to America on the couch. "Condescendingly," he added with a smirk.

"Dick." The menu screen came up and Russia was surprised when America chose Minnie as his character instead of Mickey. "What?" America raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Minnie is a beast. Besides, we have to show the ladies some love too. Alice Paul would be proud."

"Alice Paul?"

"A big leader in the suffragist movement. One of the toughest broads I ever met." America clicked through the dialogue exchanged between Minnie and Donald Duck, who Russia assumed was going to be their first opponent. The game started and America's blue eyes were glued to the screen.

"Why is the music something out of a horrible 80's porn soundtrack?" Russia found himself asking after a moment. "Bad job Disney." America took the time to shoot him a glare before returning his attention to the screen.

"And how would you know what a horrible 80's porn soundtrack sounds like?"

"Everyone knows what a horrible 80's porn soundtrack sounds like."

"…Point taken."

It went on for what seemed like hours. America wasn't bad, though the attacks the other characters were allowed to use were irritating beyond belief. Donald went down pretty easily while Russia took on Mickey. They managed to defeat all the characters, until they finally made it to Pete's castle.

"Shit's about to get real." He felt rather than saw America take his arm. The game wasn't very long, but this Pete grated on Russia's nerves. The stupid fat cat thing kept hitting him with oversized blocks and constantly shifting shapes Russia had no control over. However, Russia managed to earn himself a Pentris thanks to the oversized blocks, which caused a nauseating looking rainbow to appear on his half of the screen and clear away nearly all of his shapes. On screen Minnie smiled and jumped up and down excitedly. "Yes!" America cheered. "You almost got him!"

"Stupid fat cat thing." Russia growled when Pete earned himself a Tetris. It wasn't enough though. Russia grinned evilly as Pete started to sweat when his blocks got dangerously close to the top of the screen. "Kolkolkolkol." This was the hardest challenge Russia ever faced when it came to this game. The blocks were raining down so fast it was almost impossible to keep up with them all.

Pete's blocks touched the top of his screen and Minnie became victorious. Russia couldn't help it. He stood up and cheered along with the 2D sprite. "Take that!" He did it. He won Tetris against a fat, evil cat thing with hippo teeth. "This is my game! Mine! I made it! Screw you, ugly fat cat thing!"

"Ha, fuck you, Pete!" America got down on one knee and flailed two middle fingers at the television. Pete slumped to the floor in his defeat, his fancy suit rumpled. "Thirteen years, and your reign of terror ends, bitch!" America got up and ran to Russia, practically tackling him back into the couch. Russia caught him with a laugh, sinking into the plush cushions.

Soon their laughter died and America pulled back a little to look at him, though didn't remove himself from Russia's lap. Russia felt the pads of the younger nation's fingers stroke along his jawline. America's hands weren't soft, but his touch was gentle. Looking up at him, Russia felt a tingling warmth rise up in his chest, and he wanted to touch him too, to feel the muscles in his neck and the warmth of his cheeks. America's messy blond hair had fallen across his forehead again and it took all of Russia's restraint not to brush it back to the side.

"Hey, Russia?" America's voice came out soft, complimenting the gentle movement of his fingers across Russia's face.

"Da, Amerika?" Russia held America's eyes. The blue had darkened, but that by no means diminished their beauty.

"Are there any people in your history that you wish you could bring back for a night and talk to them?" It was a heavy question and one that made Russia's chest ache as he remembered all his past bosses, and people who helped shape him into the nation he was. He remembered the Romanovs, Lenin, Catherine the Great, Ivan III, Olga of Kiev, and Peter I. There were so many more. So many people, ideas, and values made him, and gave him life.

"You know there are." His eyes burned thinking about them all, but he refused to break eye contact with the nation on his lap.

"What would you say to them?" America lips hovered inches away, teasing, warm and wet. His fingers entwined themselves in Russia's hair.

"I would ask them two questions." He decided to risk it and let his own cool fingers stroke America's face, brushing soft golden bangs away from those deep blue eyes.

"What would they be?" Their breaths mingled and Russia's eyelids grew heavy. America's warmth seeped through his coat and down to his cool flesh. Russia continued to touch him. Everything about America's face was masculine and lovely. His neck was smooth with muscle and clean shaven.

"Did I do okay?" Russia's voice came out rough. "And can you forgive me?"

Something in America's expression opened up entirely and his lips came down warm and eager on Russia's. The kiss was clumsy and inexperienced. It made Russia want to return the enthusiasm all the more. He shifted so that he fell back with America on top of him, warm and protective, while the couch pillowed him like a cloud.

How many people allowed themselves to be chased away from this? Russia let his tongue trail across the other nation's lower lip and America opened his mouth to him. Their tongues danced while lips molded together and hands roamed. Russia let his fingers curl into the hollow behind America's ear and deepened the kiss, breathing as he pulled back to deposit smaller kisses along the America's jaw and face.

"Russia." It sent shivers down his spine the way America said his name. The younger nation forced his hands underneath Russia's body and held him closer, catching his lips once more and settling against him. It was as if he read Russia's mind, and in his own innocent way, was trying to please him.

If only Russia cared about that. America deserved to be kissed every day of his life if it was what he wanted. It baffled him how anyone could give this up, psychotic twin brother or no. America was annoying at times, obtuse and arrogant, but then the moments where his true heart showed were beautiful beyond any words he could summon in Russian or English.

After a while, America pulled back with soft pants that ghosted across Russia's face. His head was pillowed in America's arms and he sat up a bit to nuzzle America's cheek. America returned the touches, brushing the silvery strands of hair off of Russia's forehead. Somehow, the touches were more intimate then the kissing, more personal and full of so many emotions Russia couldn't hope to name them all.

"What are we doing?" Russia asked before he could stop himself. His eyelids felt too heavy and he peered at America through his lashes. America's breaths brushed his lips until the younger nation sat up and away. Russia propped himself up on his elbows and immediately regretted saying anything. Yes, they had been in some strange fantasy world where the problems between their people didn't exist, but it was a nice fantasy. Why did he have to ruin it?

"I really don't know," America replied. His eyes shimmered and Russia knew he was coming to his senses as well. Being friends was one thing, but being whatever it was they were now was another. A couple light kisses could easily be forgiven, but the passion of this one couldn't. Toss in two psychotic younger siblings and political disputes, and this was doomed for failure.

"I didn't think it would come to this." Russia internally winced at the confession. He sat up entirely but didn't turn away from America. "We were friends back then, nothing more. I don't understand where this came from." He sounded so pathetic even to his own ears, like a little lost schoolgirl who couldn't control her hormones. If only he could bludgeon himself to death. That would be nice right about now.

America averted his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "I know where mine came from, if that helps anything."

Russia opened his mouth in attempts to say something, but found his voice had fled. Something changed about America's expression. There was no bravado or pride, but something gentle and honest. It was a look Russia had only seen on a select few. It was complete openness. America was stripping himself down to the core, completely vulnerable. "America…"

"Russia, I don't know where this is going to lead, or if we're both completely nuts for even letting it get this far, but I do know this." America scooted further back, not to distance himself, but so Russia could see all of him. "I've seen you triumph, fall, and get back up again. I've been amazed by you and disgusted at the very thought of you. I've been terrified of you. I've cared about you as my friend, and hated you as my enemy. I've wanted to save you, and I've wanted to kill you. You've done so many horrible things, and you've accomplished moving mountains. I've seen you at your worst, and I've seen you at your best.

"You know me. I don't really think all that much. I follow my heart, which doesn't always translate well to everyone else. I get that I'm not very old, and I've made a lot of mistakes, wrong calls, and dick moves, but despite all that, or maybe because of it, I have a perfect understanding of what you are."

"What am I then?" Russia wasn't sure he wanted to hear this. The Cold War kept creeping up from the back of his mind. He'd been the bane of America's existence and America his. They said awful things to one another, things that couldn't be forgiven, or at least not easily.

"You're one batshit crazy, but amazing country," America said with a teasing grin. "Not to mention insanely gorgeous." His smile softened. "You've been through hell and back, and your people have more moxie than I do on a good day. I don't know if this thing is going to last or if we're walking headlong into the biggest mistake since some idiot thought it was a good idea to let England anywhere near a kitchen." He reached across the space between them and touched Russia's face. "But from the moment I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen since myself."

"You had to kill it didn't you?" Russia laughed softly and placed his hand over America's, leaning into the touch. "As I remember, Empress Catherine had taken quite a liking to you, oh America the Beautiful."

"Yes, and I didn't hear the end of it for the next three decades, jerk." America scooted back across the couch until he was nearly in Russia's lap and brought their foreheads together. "You've seen me do some pretty shitty things. You've also seen me do some pretty freaking awesome things. That's the thing with us. We've seen each other. I mean, really seen each other. I won't say this is all going to be puppies and rainbows, because even now you drive me insane with some of the crap you try to pull, but I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."

Russia took a shuddering breath and removed America's hand from his face. For a moment, he thought he saw pain flash in the younger country's eyes. That wasn't what he wanted. Still holding the other nation's hand, he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, and placed it over his rapidly beating heart. America's hand felt warm against his cold skin, and he closed his eyes. For some reason he was able to clearly picture the field of sunflowers he wanted for so long. He could almost feel the wind in in his hair, and not the freezing breaths of General Winter, but the soft cool wind that complimented a warm day.

"Your heart is racing." The sound of America's awed voice brought him out of the trance. Russia hid his face in his scarf and let his eyes drift to the side. Was he afraid? He would have scoffed not too long ago at the very thought, but a relationship with America was dangerous at best. If he agreed, if he gave in, they'd never be friends again.

"Politics may say otherwise, but Alfred still makes me feel like this." He took a shaky breath and returned his gaze to America's face. The other nation's cheeks were tinged pink and his blue eyes softened as he smiled. Grasping Russia's other hand, he placed it over his own heart. Russia couldn't help but take a sharp breath at how fast it thrummed against his palm.

"And Ivan makes me feel the same."

"You sure that's not just your high cholesterol?" The question was quiet, and teasing. It was just expected of them, and America chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nah, this is all you, tactless and totally unromantic as you are. So what do you say, ya big lug?" America winked and grinned devilishly. "Wanna make the biggest mistake of the century and possibly ruin any chance of diplomatic peace between our people when this thing turns sour?"

Russia titled his head back as if to think about it and shrugged one shoulder, reveling in the increase of America's heartbeat. "Eh, why the hell not? World peace sounds so dull."

"Look at that, already finishing each other's sentences." America was positively glowing, and without another word, they closed the distance between them, hands still pressed over each other's hearts. America rested his head against Russia's shoulder and Russia pressed his cheek against the soft golden hair. America was so warm, bright, and alive. His let out a relieved sigh, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel cold.

"America?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm…happy."

"Me too. Me too."

**nnnn**

Russia gripped his pipe as his driver neared Canada's manor, a large wooden cabin surrounded by acres of evergreen forest. The house was breathtaking, but Russia refused to be impressed as he stepped out of the limo and adjusted his suit. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but he'd convinced America it was best not to arrive together and to keep their new relationship secret for a while.

This thing with Canada needed to be dealt with. After all these years of struggle and loss, Russia had found happiness in the most unlikely person, and no one was going to take it away. Russia walked towards the house, unsurprised to see everyone else filtering in. That was when Russia saw him.

Standing in the doorway, America was talking to Canada. Even from so far away Russia could tell by the way Canada's smile strained that America was telling him about their new relationship. At first, he had half a mind to be angry, but then shook it off. Why should he and America keep their relationship secret? Canada's sake?

Russia's thoughts immediately went back to the doll and his resolve hardened. Canada knew where he stood now, and he was not giving America up without a fight. He quickly went over his various spats with America during the Cold War, recalling old strategies and the heaviest thing America had ever thrown at him, which at the time had been his entire desk.

Russia approached the twins with a smile and his stomach tied itself in a knot when America's entire face lit up. "Hey, Russia. I was just telling Canada the good news." He let an arm rest over his brother's shoulders. "Don't worry, he promised not to tell."

"I'm so happy for you, Al." Canada's eyes were blazing with pure unadulterated rage but there was also…terror. Russia had seen that look in the eyes of the countless soldiers he had killed in the war. It had been present in the car too, but then it had just been fear.

"Thanks, bro." America squeezed his shoulder affectionately and gazed up at Russia. "I guess I'll see you inside. Spain and France are coming up the way so I better scoot unless we want France shouting it to the rooftops."

"How would he know?" Russia tilted his head.

"We could be playing a nice game of canasta and he'd know if we were in talking range of each other." America shrugged. "Probably some weird French power, but he'd blab, and as snotty as he is, I'd hate to watch you kill him."

"Oh, but Papa means well," Canada said with a smile. "He just gets excited when he sees people…in love." The tightening around his eyes told Russia that saying the last part actually caused him physical pain.

"Well, I know I can trust you with anything." America patted his brother's cheek. "I'm going to head in now, you two play nice." America disappeared inside the manor and Russia was left to stare into Canada's frigid eyes.

"You sicken me." All pretenses of a friendliness were gone.

"You don't exactly inspire me to paint great art either," Russia said. "Your face looks a lot better on America."

"What are you doing to him?" Canada took a step forward, heedless of the other nations approaching. "Whatever it is, I will not let you play out whatever sick game you have planned in that crazy, corroded, pile of meat festering inside your skull."

"That was a mouthful," Russia said. "You've been sitting on that for the past few weeks, haven't you?"

"No!" Canada's face reddened, though it wasn't out of embarrassment. He was getting angrier and he looked so much like America it was startling. If he wasn't careful, Russia feared he might start thinking he'd gone back in time to the Cold War. "Everyone knows how all your relationships end, and I will rip your finger off before it touches a hair on my little brother's head."

Russia leaned forward. He was pushing it, just as he had done with America. It was easy to slip back into old habits, and he knew there was going to be a fight. He could smell the adrenaline and feel the tension in the air. His grin was razor sharp as he chose his next words carefully. "Too late for that. I wonder what shampoo he uses to make it so soft."

Canada's lips peeled back in a murderous snarl and he leaned forward as well. Enraged blue drilled into violet. Russia admitted he was intimidated, but he kept his smile firmly in place. America had intimidated him on many occasions. It would be stupid not to have been, here was no different, but just because he was intimidated didn't mean he'd let it rule him. In a way it was exciting, and tension curled in his gut like a serpent.

"Lunch break. You die." Every word was hissed through clenched teeth.

"I look forward to seeing you try, child," Russia replied. He straightened up until he was standing at his full height. Canada didn't back away, just tilted his head back. Canada glared at him for a few moments before his expression cleared, replaced by shy innocence.

"H-Hello France, Spain." He smiled and shook both of their hands. "I hope the hotel was okay. I tried my best."

Not wanting to listen to more of Canada's fake stuttering, he entered the house and was greeted with a hallway of mounted animal heads. The biggest bears Russia had ever seen were stuffed and forced into different roaring positions. Moose, wolves, reindeer, and more glared down at him with dead glass eyes.

"Little known fact about me: I'm an avid hunter," Canada said from behind him, smiling in that stereotypical friendly Canadian way. Russia wondered how long they had both been standing there. He hadn't seen anyone else walk by, but he could hear the dull rumble of their chatter from somewhere down the hall. Canada opened his eyes and they were warm and welcoming. He chuckled and stepped past Russia. "See you at lunch!"

Russia set his jaw and followed him into the meeting room. He took his usual seat next to the Italian brothers and glared at the table. He could hear them whimpering, but decided to ignore it. Usually he would at least attempt to offer them a reassuring smile. It always made them cry, but it was the thought that counted. Not today, though.

He was going to make that little Canadian bastard bleed. The pipe was going to come down on his face so many times that he would never look like his brother again. These thoughts consumed him so deeply that when his phone went off in his pocket it caused him to blink. England was droning on about something unimportant, and Russia took out his phone.

_U ok? _

Russia looked up to see America watching him, the right side of his mouth quirked up in a crooked, worried smiled. The anger and bloodlust left him in an instant. Crazy as Canada was, he was still America's twin brother, and the one who took care of him when they were young. Murdering Canada would destroy America, and it was almost scary that just a few years ago, Russia would have leapt at the chance.

He nodded towards the other nation and adjusted his thoughts to simply maiming. About a half an hour later, England settled down in his seat between France and America, his green eyes finding Russia in an instant. From there the Englishman merely shook his head in disapproval and turned his attention to Belgium.

Through the entire meeting, Russia felt Canada's eyes on him, but finding him was turning out to be a bit of a challenge. It was as if he were invisible. Russia thought for sure he'd be clinging to America like a barnacle after his little tirade outside.

"Okay everyone!" America suddenly shouted, standing up abruptly with an excited grin. "Canada has something to say!" Russia blinked when he realized that Canada was indeed standing next to his brother.

"America-kun, have you finally managed to clone yourself?" Japan looked at the twins with surprise mixed with a bit of betrayal. Translated to his face, such feeling was displayed by his brows raising a fraction of an inch. "You said we would work on the technology together."

"And I meant that. This is my brother."

"Oh, yes I remember now." Japan's cheeks flushed a bit.

"Can we please get on with this?" China snapped from his place next to Korea.

"Um, yes." Canada cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, we've reached the two hour mark, so we have an hour and a half to get some lunch. There's plenty of places to go, just make sure you're back on time." Canada met Russia's glare with an innocent smile. Without another word, the nations in the room departed. America made his way over, much to Russia's surprise, and yawned.

"These things get more boring at the centuries go by. At least during World War II we had my cute New York City pop art on the chalk board."

"As I recall, my nose took up my whole face," Russia said.

"Nah, more like half." America snickered. "But don't feel bad. I gave England a unibrow."

"America." As if summoned by the mention of those horrid drawings, England approached after waving France off with a scowl. "I need to have words with you."

"Really?" America blinked. "Aren't we getting lunch together anyway?"

"It has to be now, as in right this second." England grabbed America's wrist and towed him away.

"Um, I'll talk to you later, Russia!" America called as England dragged him out of the meeting room. Russia stood still, taking his pipe out from his coat and holding it at the ready once all the other nations were gone. Canada was still in the room. He could feel that eerie sensation of cold nails being dragged up his spine.

Sure enough, just as Russia made it to the opposite wall, Canada appeared out of thin air with a fist aimed right at his head. Russia was quick to dodge, and the fist went straight through the wall and up to Canada's elbow. Canada pulled away with a growl, leaving a sizable crater in his house.

"This ends here," he said, taking a step to the side. Russia followed, knowing turning his back was out of the question. "You are not going to turn my brother into a sex puppet."

"That's not what I want from him," Russia said. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't plan to understand anything that goes on in that black abyss you call a mind. I only care about Alfred."

"You're really going to fight me, you little shit?" Russia held his pipe, legs braced apart as he and Canada continued to circle each other. His mind was already retreating back to the Cold War when he and America had gotten into several physical altercations. Distance was the key. He had been a fool last time to stand still when Canada charged him.

"I'd rather not," Canada said. His eyes were wild with what might have been fear or manic hatred. Russia couldn't really tell. "But you can bet your frozen tush I will if you insist on seducing my innocent brother!"

"I have been very patient with you," Russia said. "I have refrained from beating your skull in for America's sake, but you are _really_ pushing your luck here."

"Then let's do this, crazy man." Canada rushed forward, and Russia automatically leapt to meet him head on. It seemed his fighting style was the same as America's, relying on brute strength. Canada drew his fist back as Russia neared him. Then with perfect timing, Russia sank down to one knee just as Canada swung. He held his pipe out to the side, tripping the other nation. The momentum from Canada's charge nearly caused Russia to fall backwards as well, but he held fast, and Canada was sent careening into the opposite wall.

"Is that all you've got, _loh?_" Russia stood up and faced his attacker again, pipe at the ready. _Distance_, he reminded himself. A full-powered punch from America could take a person's head off. Canada was no different, and if the younger nation managed to wrap his arms around him, he might as well say do svidanya to his ribcage.

"I haven't even started yet, hoser." Canada chuckled and picked himself up off the floor. "Looks like I'll have to play this a bit smarter." He cracked his fists. "It's time to break out Jimmy Doohan and Celine."

"What?" Russia took a step back.

"My fists." Then to Russia's horror Canada rushed over to the meeting table and promptly lifted it above his head. It was solid mahogany. Sweet Lenin's ghost, if that came down on his head then he was going to be comatose for the next five years. "Or this could work." Russia felt all his blood drain from his face. That table was heavier than two cars put together, but he held his ground.

_Never show the enemy your fear, _he reminded himself. Just when Canada brought the table down, Russia darted out of the way, blocking his face from the wreckage. A few pieces of wood clattered against him and when he lowered his hands Canada appeared right in front of him and ready to bludgeon him with a hockey stick he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. Russia blocked it with his pipe and nearly lost hold of it.

"This," Russia snarled. "Is going to be the last thing you see."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Canada growled back.

**nnnn**

"America, are you sure this thing with Russia is a good idea?" England and America stood on the porch of Canada's large manor. England leaned casually against the railing, shoving his gloves into the pockets of his fluffy coat.

"What do you mean?" America blinked. The sliding glass behind him reflected his back, showing his fingers knotting together nervously. England rolled his eyes. Even after all this time the boy still couldn't lie to him convincingly.

"Don't play dumb. I saw you ogling him all meeting."

"I was not ogling!" America crossed his arms. "I was glancing. There's a difference."

"It's just so out of the blue," England said. "You and Russia were a button push away from killing each other not too long ago."

"Everyone always brings that up," America muttered. "No one ever remembers that when I was going through my Civil War, Russia was the only one who believed that I could be a single nation and supported the Union. He also tried his best to convince you to get that stick out of your ass and let me open my trade to other nations during 1812."

"Yes, and then you both were ready to plunge the world into nuclear winter," England reminded flatly. "I think the only reason you're so adamant about this is that he's shown an interest." America's face darkened and England knew that was the wrong thing to say.

"How dare you?" America lips turned down in a scowl. England mentally kicked himself. Was he _trying _to get his spine ripped out today? "Do you think I'd be so desperate that I would play with someone's feelings like that? I may be a lot of things, but I would never _ever _lead someone on. That's not cool."

"I know you don't think so, but I'm old, America." England held up his hands. He hated admitting it, but sometimes the age card was the best way to go about dealing with someone so young and inexperienced. "I know how it feels to have someone take an interest in you, and sometimes you might lead someone on without realizing it. Let's face it, you haven't had the chance to have a serious intimate relationship."

"I am experienced!" America threw his hands in the air. "Plenty of people have asked me out, but when I say yes they just decide not to." He crossed his arms and huffed. "Kinda like what you did if you want to talk about leading people on." England winced. He remembered when he finally got the courage to ask America out on a date. For the first twenty minutes, he'd been the happiest man in the world. The hour after that consisted of Canada tying him to a chair and forcing him to choke down ungodly amounts of pancakes until he felt like his stomach was going to burst.

_Silly Iggy, you've already taken everything from me. _Canada had said it pleasantly, as if they were merely chatting and he was recalling a fond memory. _And I'm so sorry for getting in the way, but I just can't let you have Alfred. I do hope you understand and we can get past this. He's the only one who sees me. _Canada set the freshly made pancakes down with a sweet-natured smile. _You like over indulging yourself, so eat these. Eat until you're satisfied and don't want America anymore. I've made plenty, just for you. And when you're done, you can call him and tell him you've come to your senses. _

"Yeah." England looked down at his boots. France obviously made Canada insane just to spite him, though the bloody frog denied it and thought Canada's obsession with guarding his brother's virtue was sweet. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Built a bridge and got over that one a long time ago." America shrugged. "You're like my older brother anyway. Going on a date with you would be really creepy if you think about it."

"I hear you." It was odd how much being considered a brother meant to him, not that he'd tell America that. Still, maybe Canada's disapproval was for the best. He enjoyed having a place in America's heart that was permanent and untouchable. Lovers came and went, but family was forever. "But this is Russia we're talking about. A union between you two would be terrifying, not to mention doomed for failure. Your ideologies are too different. You have incompatible personalities, and…" England trailed off when Canada and Russia stumbled into view from inside the house.

Both of them were tattered, as if they had been fighting ever since the meeting cut for a lunch break. Canada's face was bruised and his glasses were gone, while Russia bled from a gash above his right eye. He legs were wrapped around Canada's waist as he attempted to strangle him from behind with his pipe. Canada gripped the pipe and launched himself backwards into the far wall. Russia continued to hold strong despite the impact.

"Iggy, I get that you're worried, and to be honest, I'm not sure where this is going." America's voice was soft. England immediately tore his eyes away from the wrangling pair and focused them back on America. "But I do know I care about Russia. Maybe I don't agree with him on a lot, but maybe that's not what I need."

"I don't get it." England winced as Canada managed to toss Russia over his shoulder and bring his hockey stick down on the other nation's side, undoubtedly cracking a few ribs. Russia swiped out with his pipe and knocked Canada on his back. He attempted to crawl on top of the other nation, and they rolled across Canada's hardwood floors trying to strangle one another.

"Maybe Russia is meant to be my asshole," America said. England couldn't help the horrified look that crossed his face when Canada lifted Russia over his head and slammed the considerably larger nation down on his knee.

"God save the Queen," he whispered. Russia's back bent awkwardly, but it was quickly remedied when he lifted his leg and kicked Canada in the side of the head, sending the other nation toppling to the ground.

"Oh, I don't mean like that!" America exclaimed, oblivious to the brawl behind him. "Jeeze Louise, I meant that everyone needs an asshole in their lives. You know, that one person who argues with them about everything just to keep them on their toes and annoy the piss out of them. I like that about Russia, I really do. Plus," America blushed and toyed with the ends of his scarf, "he's the first person who's kissed me and hasn't avoided me like the black plague the next day. In fact, it's like we're friends again, but more…intense."

"That's bloody insane," England said. Russia sat on Canada's chest and continuously punched him in the face until Canada caught his fist, twisting it so Russia tumbled to the side. Then Canada was the one on top doing the punching. Russia must have worn him out to the point where he couldn't focus enough to harness his superhuman strength.

"I know, right? Do I smell or something?" America sighed. "Whelp, we better go grab some grub before the meeting starts up again." Canada clung to Russia's back and used both ends of his scarf to strangle him. England hadn't seen a fight this intense since the Cold War. A hollow feeling overcame his insides. What if this caused a war between Canada and Russia? World War III would be upon them, and all because America was an idiot convinced that his brother was a helpless damsel and not a bleeding lunatic.

England snapped out of his thoughts when he felt America tap his forehead. "Earth to England, are you there?"

"Yes, I am!" England slapped the intruding digit away. "And we should get something, but before you say it, we're not getting McDonalds. That stuff erodes away your heart like no tomorrow."

"Again with the heart health." America grinned and headed towards the porch steps. Behind him, Russia smacked Canada across the room with his pipe and straight into the television set. Now they appeared to be in some sort of pseudo sword fight with the pipe and hockey stick. "So, is Francey Pants coming to join us?" America smirked.

"Yes, actually. He said he found this supposedly 'charming' place last time he was here. Get your wallet ready. Knowing the frog it's probably expensive." England was quick to follow America lest he turn around and see what a true menaces his brother and potential love interest were. America's entire world would be turned upside down if he saw Canada suplex Russia or Russia beat the snot out of "poor" and "defenseless" Canada.

America prided himself on being the hero, and England couldn't imagine the consequences if he found out Canada was the one scaring his potential suitors off. Russia currently pile driving his head through the floor probably wouldn't sit well with America either.

"France just doesn't get that I'm kind of scraped for cash." Russia was now on his stomach, reaching for the handle of the door, while Canada held him in a headlock and punched him in the side of the head. England tore his gaze away from the fight and darted to America's side.

"We've spent enough time chatting, let's go!" England hooked an arm around America's and practically dragged him down the steps.

"You okay?" America asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't I be?" England gave a strained smile as they made down the walkway. If the Cold War was anything to go by, it was best to let them get it out of their systems.

"Oh! We forgot about Mattie. I'm sure he'd be happy to see France since the poor guy's been super busy lately."

"No time! We just need to meet the wine bastard before—"

The sound of shattering glass caused Alfred to whip around in time to see Russia flipping backwards down the porch steps until he was sprawled on his back in the front yard.

"Time for you to die, red villain!" Canada stepped through the remains of his sliding doors and launched himself at Russia in what was going to be a very painful body slam. At the last moment, Russia lifted his legs and kicked Canada in the gut, causing him to flip in the air and land on his back with a thud.

"You…are going…to pay," Russia gasped as he turned over and dragged himself towards Canada.

"Not…a snowball's chance…in…Bermuda." Canada got to his knees, gripped Russia's arms and hoisted him up. "I'll…kill you." The two nations attacked each other once more with renewed vigor.

"I am the Russian Fucking Federation, you invisible cretin!" Russia punched the other nation across the jaw, panting roughly. Canada's head whipped around so fast, England was surprised it didn't pop off his neck. "You are nothing! You…have England's queen as your head of state!" Canada returned the punch into Russia's gut and sent him toppling to the ground once more.

"Your mouth is filthy!" Canada, with rivers of blood trickling down his chin, was upon the downed nation in a second, his hands around his throat. "You are nothing but a psychotic waste of space and frozen tundra!"

"Psychotic…wastes…of space and frozen tundra…who live in glass houses…shouldn't throw stones!" Russia managed to choke out before he elbowed Canada in the chin. However, before the fight could escalate further, England flinched at America's shout of,

"What in the name of Betsy Ross is going on here?" Immediately, Russia and Canada stopped their assault on one another. Canada paused in mid punch and slowly turned his head to look at his brother. His expression became so terrified that for a moment, England almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He still got stomachaches whenever he thought of pancakes.

"Oh! America!" Canada scrambled off of Russia. "Thank goodness. R-Russia attacked me!"

"What?" Russia gingerly sat up, cradling his side and grimacing. England didn't blame him. He and Canada both looked as if someone had thrown them under a moving truck.

"It's true!" Canada's blue eyes filled with tears. It was a look England knew America couldn't resist, but when he looked over he saw America's lips pressed into a thin line and his brows furrowed. "He just went crazy! He hasn't changed at all from the Cold War!"

"You are the one who's crazy!" Russia wiped the blood away from his left eye, still clutching his side. England had been right in thinking some of his ribs broke. "Your brother has been harassing me since we started talking!"

"Look, he's already lying." Canada sniffled, wincing when he touched his newly formed black eye. He looked up at America again, tears still streaming down his battered face. "Please, I…I was so scared! I didn't stand a chance! I need my hero!"

"You sure did a number on him for someone who didn't stand a chance." America's voice was dark and England swallowed nervously.

"I-I was protecting myself!" Canada's voice held a twinge of hysteria. America wasn't buying into the act, and England knew he wasn't going to. If he was, he'd already be smothering his brother with hugs and doting over his wounds.

"He's lying." Russia hunched over in pain, but managed to point an accusing finger at Canada. "He's the one who's been chasing away everyone you've ever tried to date."

"Come on, you know that's…that's silly!" Canada let out a high-pitched giggle that quickly died when America's expression didn't soften. "Come on, bro! You know me! Russia…Russia is the commie bastard, remember?" He flinched. "Maple, I don't like using words like that."

"It's true!" Russia insisted. "Ask England! Your evil twin said he chased him away as well!" England groaned. Why did he always have to be dragged into things like this? What made it worse was when America shifted focus to him. His usual vibrant blue eyes were like chips of ice, and his frown made him look older, and defiantly scarier. It was hard to imagine America intimidating. He was like a puppy: sweet and over-enthusiastic with paws too big for his body. He was also a full-grown nation who wasn't immune to the feral side they all possessed. England had to remember that.

"Well, is it true?" America asked in the same cold voice. "Was Canada the reason you called me an hour after asking me out to inform me you made a giant mistake?" England's vocal chords decided not to work, and he was left opening and closing his mouth uselessly.

"I…I…" He cast a quick glance at Canada and found him glaring daggers. It was enough to make England's blood boil. It had been heartbreaking to hear America act like he was okay and he couldn't forget his own physical torment. He'd spent the latter half of the day puking his guts out and hating himself for hurting America. Canada had no right to glare at him. Regardless if it had turned out for the better, it hadn't been his decision to make. This cute little brother act was finally going to end. England met America's eyes and took a nervous breath. "Yes."

"I see." The hardness in America's eyes faded back into something softer and vulnerable. Tears bloomed in their corners and he turned back to Canada and Russia. He laughed miserably. "Why didn't you tell me, Russia?"

"Who were you going to believe?" Russia asked breathlessly. "Me or your own brother? And after what you told about how you both grew up, I couldn't tarnish that."

"So you decided beating the shit out of him was the better solution?" America was still smiling. It was a disturbing sort of smile that made England feel torn between wanting to hug his former colony and back away. There was so much sadness in it, but also an incredible amount of anger.

"No, but he was going to bash my brains in with the meeting table if I didn't do something."

"Right," America said a little too calmly. "Okay." A choked sound left him.

"I was just trying to protect you!" Canada said. "I hear what they all say about you in world meetings. I couldn't let anyone hurt you. That's all they wanted to do, America. They just wanted to hurt you!"

"You lied to me," America said. "All those times you lied and let me believe that I did something wrong."

"You wouldn't understand," Canada said. "You wouldn't understand because you won't shut up and listen!"

"I'm listening now," America said. "All these years I thought something was wrong with me." He lips quivered and he was no longer smiling. "Canada, I told you everything about how I felt. You let me…you let me believe that I was unlovable."

"N-No," Canada stammered. "No, that's not what—"

"Well, that's what you did!" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You were the one chasing everyone away. I can't believe it."

"I told you I wanted to pro—"

"Enough, Matthew, okay?" America lifted his head from his hands. His whole face was raw with hurt and disbelief. Canada's mouth shut with a snap and it looked as if he was truly about to burst into tears. He lifted his arms towards his brother, pleading. America took a few steps back, shaking his head and refusing to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall. "I don't want to see you for a while." His gaze fell on Russia. "Either of you. I have…I have to think."

"America." England reached a hand out, but stopped himself when America turned his back on all of them.

"I can't deal with this right now." His entire body trembled, and his voice cracked. He was trying not to cry. England felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

"America, please don't go." Russia got to his feet.

"I need to. Sorry." And with that he took off down the street, disappearing around the corner.

"This is all your fault." England's attention was brought back to Canada, who now stood slightly hunched over. "You ruin everything."

"How is any of this my fault?" England raised his brows and crossed his arms. "I'm not the one acting insane."

"Because you ruin everything!" Canada straightened a bit and England took a startled step back. Standing before him wasn't someone crazy. He was angry, there was no denying that, but that wasn't the main emotion. Overall, Canada was hurt and scared, and all of it was directed at him. "You took everything from me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You made such a big deal about making France give me up, and then when he does, I might as well not exist to you! I even put up with you during America's revolution, thinking if I stayed you'd care! I could have left with him! I could have, and instead I refused to leave you, and you didn't even blink! I'm even still part of your Commonwealth, but I'm nothing to you!"

"That's not true!" England considered getting into his face, but thought better of it. America would never lift a hand against him, but in the state he was in now, Canada would snap him like a twig.

"Yes it is! It's true for everyone! Alfred is the only one who cares! He's the only one who can see me and even he forgets me half the time. Now you've taken him too, so I hope you're happy or at least indifferent because I'm that insignificant!" Tears streamed down Canada's face as he turned and limped back towards his house.

"Wait! Uh…fuck!" England was ready to rip out his hair. How could the boy's name have slipped his mind _now _of all times? "Just, wait! Wait, Camda, Card, Canaidia! America's brother!" America's brother stopped, his back rigid, and when he turned around, his eyes were flat with pure rage and hatred so intense England thought for sure he was going to be burnt.

"It's Canada, you self-centered, war-mongering, oppressive, selfish, bitter, washed up has been of a country." England was completely speechless. Even in their worst fights America had never said something in a way that was so cruel. Canada wanted to hurt him and hurt him badly. Well, mission accomplished. "Don't bother talking to me when the meeting starts up again." He gingerly pulled himself up the steps, one at a time and disappeared through the shattered doors.

"I need to talk to him," Russia said. England blinked. He almost forgot the larger country was there.

"Are you out of your mind?" England glanced up at him and immediately felt stupid for asking. "Wait, it's you, but do you want to die?"

"He can't kill me," Russia said. "Besides, he wants you to go after him, but you won't so I will."

"Did you not hear what he just said?" England asked.

"Da, and you have someone who's hurt and feels like he's worthless." Now Russia glared at him, and he was far more intimidating than Canada or America combined. "Someone needs to calm him down." Russia winced and limped towards the house.

"Why are you doing this?" England asked. "Are you trying to get on America's good side or something? You know he'll eventually forgive Canada, but you are out of luck."

"Nyet." Russia paused and looked over his shoulder. Unlike Canada, Russia's face hadn't suffered too badly. Other than the gash and a sprinkling of bruises, most of the damage must have been done to his body. "I just know how it feels when you think no one cares."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not me he's angry at." Russia turned and hobbled into the house. England huffed, suddenly feeling very alone and guilty. Why was it his fault? Canada was acting crazy. He was the one with the unhealthy obsession with keeping his brother out of the beds of other nations. That went far beyond brotherly protectiveness. It was possessive, territorial, and…he was a bloody git.

"I didn't do anything!" England's shout fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Oh England. Well, odd thing is that next chapter Sage!England turns out to be Sage!France, so sorry Lucky! D: Damn these characters and doing whatever they want! Also, I have a new tumblr Lucky forced me to get if you want to send me a message or something or follow me. I have no idea how to use it, but I'm learning! It's buffy4spike. Um...until next time! And thank you so much for the feedback! (Hopes for another 25 reviews and cries)


	3. You Are Loved

Holy shit on a shingle, this is the final installment of this story! It's here are last! Here at last! And my fingers bleeeeeeeeeeed. Lucky, I love you. You are a fantastic writer, and an even more fantastic friend. You have so much talent and I'm so proud of you. So, this is for your 15th birthday I missed last year. Make good life choices, and I hope you enjoyed this...thing.

For everyone else! Enjoy the madness winding down!

**Disclaimer:** Nothing I own.

* * *

France lifted his cellphone and sighed. He'd texted England and America a while ago and yet they were late. He looked up at the quaint restaurant he found the last time he visited Canada with all the unrequited love in his heart. The boy had been ecstatic to see him, which was a nice change from everyone else who was needlessly cautious due to his unfortunate need to touch pretty things. It could hardly be helped that all countries were so lovely in their own way. At least Russia had been a good sport about it.

"Mon dieu, can they be any slower?" France felt the grumblings in his tummy and whined in the back of his throat. He wasn't one to gorge himself like an animal, but he'd been so busy with a brutal election process, and helping his new boss get started, he hadn't had much time to eat. His house was still wracked with record high unemployment and growing public debt, but now wasn't the time to deal with it. Now, he only wanted to sit down to a nice lunch with his pseudo family, and maybe tease England about how much he missed his scowl in lieu of his busy schedule.

France turned back to the street and was relieved to find America making his way towards him. It was about time. If he had to stand out in the cold for any longer with nothing in his tummy he was seriously going to faint, and that would surely ruin a good afternoon.

"Oh, Alfred!" He raised a hand to wave at the approaching nation. "I was beginning to think I was being stood up! Where is that insufferable bushy browed amour of mine?" France's relief faded when America drew closer and he saw that the boy's face was screwed up into an expression of pure agony. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his glasses were askew. France didn't have time to process it until he was nearly toppled over by the much larger nation throwing himself into his arms.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe he would do something like this to me." America's entire frame shook and France gently wrapped his arms around him to return the embrace. Annoying as America was, France couldn't ignore the call of being an older brother, and seeing either of the twins cry always broke his heart. America crying was something different though. For the longest time France was convinced the boy lacked tear ducts, or at least broke them from prolonged use during his childhood if what Canada told him was true.

"Hush," he soothed, rubbing the younger nation's back. "Je suis ici. Séchez vos larmes. Tell big brother France all about it." He looked up at the restaurant mournfully. Nothing inside it was going to make America feel better. The boy thrived on genetically modified meat and grease. France's stomach growled again as if begging him to reconsider. Still, it was the job of an older brother to do his best to comfort his younger siblings, no matter how nauseating the process was.

"Amérique," he said with a strained smile. America looked up at him. His red, tearstained face was so pathetic it rivaled the Sarah McLaughlin dying animal commercials France was subjected to every time he tried to watch television at America's house. "How about…" _Say it! Just say it and get it over with! You are the big brother now! _"How about we go find a McDonalds and you can tell me all about it?" He was smiling on the outside, but inside he was dying and weeping at the cruelty of it all.

"You'd do that?" America sniffled.

"Of course." France reached into his pocket, withdrew England's favorite handkerchief he'd left at his house, and wiped the younger nation's nose with it. "Here, blow." America obeyed and France felt something in his heart melt at the sight. America reminded him so much of Canada when he was little. "Now, let us go and find a greasy hell-hole to make it all better."

**nnnn**

Russia entered the house and marveled at the damage he and Canada had caused in their fight. There was a hole in the floor from Canada's head, and the coffee table lay in smithereens from where the younger nation had suplexed him. The back of Russia's head still throbbed from the impact. The large television was face down on the floor surrounded by a sea of glass, and blood was smeared across the floor like a child's clumsy finger painting.

Russia never remembered being in an individual fight that intense before. He had used every strategy and ounce of strength he possessed. Other nations would be lucky to bruise him, but he knew he'd be limping at least for the next few weeks thanks to Canada. Thinking back, Germany once told him about how vicious the Canadian troops were during World War II, particularly on Juno Beach.

Seeing America's supposedly helpless and shy twin brother racing up the beach, taking bullets and killing enemies wasn't too much of a stretch after fighting him. Still, Russia knew he'd done the most damage. Canada hadn't landed a hit on him until Russia had successfully worn down his strength to that of a slightly stronger than average human. What made it worse was that Canada didn't seem to have an off switch. Where America knew when to declare his victory or cut his losses and back out (though with much swearing and insults), Canada had been ready to fight until he physically couldn't.

As he wandered through the house, Russia began to wonder why it was no one remembered Canada. Sure he was unfortunately the twin of one of the loudest and most annoying countries on the planet, nor was he very outspoken, but the boy clearly had issues on a personal level due to his isolation. Hadn't anyone noticed? Hadn't America? Or was he so obsessed with being a hero that he convinced himself that his brother enjoyed being passive and stepped on so long as America was there to make it better?

Russia peeked into several rooms, only to find them empty until he came to a door at the end of the upstairs hallway. It was covered with hockey paraphernalia and a red and white flag with a maple leaf in the center. He assumed it was Canada's flag and opened the door, unsurprised when he found the other nation huddled in a corner with his knees drawn to his chest. He didn't react when Russia stepped into the room, just stared blankly ahead, his cheeks stained with tears.

The little polar bear Russia remembered from the car incident sat at Canada's side and gently licked at his swollen, bloody knuckles. "He's hurt." The bear turned towards him. Russia figured he should probably be more surprised that an animal had just spoken to him, but after living for thousands of years, he'd seen stranger things. He knelt down in front of Canada. The bear darted in front of the unresponsive nation and bared his teeth.

Russia was taken aback for a moment. The little creature had looked so fluffy and harmless, that the incredibly sharp teeth within its wrinkled muzzle seemed out of place. It growled deeply in its chest, its fur bristling. Russia looked at Canada, expecting him to either call the animal off or encourage it, but nothing. In fact, he seemed to be fading to the point where he was almost transparent.

"Easy, comrade." Russia carefully held out his hand and allowed the bear to sniff it. "I am only here to help." The bear's tiny black nose wiggled and slowly its muzzle smoothed over, transforming the miniature beast back into a harmless fluff ball.

"Don't hurt him again." It stepped aside.

"Canada." Russia looked over the younger nation, ignoring the pain from his ribs. He'd been through worse. Canada's face was a mess. One eye was half swollen to the point it was nearly shut. His lower lip was split and the right side of his golden hair was stained a dull red. His hands were no better. Russia lifted one and pursed his lips at the split knuckles. America wouldn't have let himself get to this condition, and if he had he'd be a whimpering complaining mess. "Where is your first aid kit?"

Canada turned his face away. It was still amazing how much he looked like his southern brother. It was enough to make Russia's heart clench. He was just as stubborn, if not more so, but this boy knew what it was like to fend for himself, to have no one else care for him and to become his own nation regardless. In a way, he might have been what Russia truly needed in a partner: someone deceptively innocent, helpless and weak, but in all actuality cold, possessive and damaged.

But he wasn't America, twins or not. How anyone could confuse these two countries was beyond him. "First aid kit," he said again. Canada still didn't look at him, though it wasn't out of submission, but defiance. Back when he was the Soviet Union, such disobedience would have earned someone a concussion if they were lucky. He was seriously considering reverting back.

"Medicine cabinet," the bear interrupted those thoughts. "Follow me."

"Traitor," Canada muttered under his breath. Russia ignored him and followed the bear into the bathroom across the hall, took the first aid kit, and returned to Canada. It had all the essentials and he readied the needed supplies.

Russia wondered if it would be too much to use some of this on himself. Canada had done a number on his body. Everything hurt and the broken ribs ground together with each move of his torso. Still, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He started to bandage the other's hands, before moving up to the face. "Why are you doing this?"

"Does it matter?" Russia dabbed the bloodied knuckles of the other nation's right hand with disinfectant. "I need a bowl of water to clean all the blood off of your face."

"On it," the bear said unexpectedly and trotted off. Russia watched it go, blinking curiously. He was aware of other nations having talking pets. Apparently Iceland had a puffin with quite a rude mouth, but seeing one gave him the shivers. Maybe that was why he was satisfied with his pipe.

"I guess not, but I hope you know that this won't make Alfred forgive you." Canada glared at him, though it didn't have much bite to it. Mostly he just looked tired.

"Da, but this isn't about him," Russia said. Canada scoffed.

"What? So you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Something like that," Russia said just as the bear returned with a bowl of water held between its front paws and a wash rag. Russia took the bowl and dabbed the washcloth. "Believe it or not, I know how you feel."

"Isn't that just dandy?" Canada said. "No offense, but I doubt anyone could ever forget your existence. You tend to give off an aura of a major creeper."

"You'd be surprised." Russia dabbed at Canada's bloody lip. The other nation didn't flinch. "When the Soviet Union collapsed, it was like I was dead. Everyone left me."

"That's because you were psycho and abusive." It was meant to bait him. It would have worked in any other instance, but for some unforeseeable reason, Ivan couldn't bring himself to be angry.

"Da, I was." He wiped at a scrape on Canada's cheek. "I'm not saying I was entirely the victim, but I still know what it's like to feel abandoned. Especially when my sisters left." Russia held back the memories of Belarus walking away, and Ukraine stepping out into the snow. The house they shared had been empty. "Belarus left without a word. She wouldn't look at me, talk to me, or even say goodbye. She just left. Ukraine was the same. She wouldn't answer my questions or listen to me beg."

For a span of minutes that were like hours in nature, there was utter silence. Canada still had his face turned to the side, while Russia gently scrubbed at the other's neck. The glass shards from the television had done their work. Russia lost himself in his thoughts as he continued to care for the other nation. They drifted to America, and the kiss they shared earlier before things shot to hell.

It was tragic that their relationship fell apart within hours. It truly wasn't meant to be, and it gave Russia the violent urge to destroy everything in sight. It wasn't fair. Things were better between them. The Cold War was over, and the memories of that shy, twitchy little thing America had been when they first met made him ache with longing.

"Alfred clung to me when we were little." Canada's voice broke his concentration. "Every time England turned his back on us, I felt like the most important person in the world. I would hold him, and I would be there with him in that moment, not just drifting like some ghost." Canada took a shaky breath. "And every time England came back, I was back to nothing. America would forget my name and ignore me." It was said bitterly with a rough voice. "England took America away from me over and over and over. Tell me, what would it be like for you to lose your sisters on repeat?"

Russia considered it. Once was hard. No, 'hard' was an understatement. It had been absolutely unbearable. His heart had shattered, and even to this day the images of Belarus and Ukraine with their backs turned to him haunted his nightmares. To have to go through it again not just once, but for years, it was a hell not even Russia could imagine.

"I sit through it every day still. I have Alfred when we're home. I'm somebody there, but as soon as you people show up, I get walked all over. I turn invisible and no one can hear me, not even my own brother." Russia remembered America's words about how he and Canada grew up with only each other for years at a time. "I don't mean much to a lot of people, but I do to Alfred. If he ends up with you, you'll take him for sure." Canada's eyes narrowed accusingly. "He'll have you and then I'll fade."

"Is that what all this is about? You think I'm going to take him away and lock him in a tower?" The very idea was ridiculous. America was no princess.

"You wouldn't have to," Canada said. "He'd care more about you than me and spend all his time with you, give you every piece of himself until he forgets me entirely like everyone else. He already bullies me, and a lot of my troubles are because of him, and I let him because I could never say no to him. What's forgetting me for good?"

"Ah." Russia dabbed some more disinfectant on Canada's cheek.

"What do you mean 'ah'?"

"Canada, forgive me for saying this." Russia reached into the first aid kit and pressed a band aid to the other nation's scarped cheek. "But you are an utter idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard." Russia tilted his head to bet a better angle on the state of Canada's face. That fat lip was going to take a while to heal, and the nasty black eye could use some ice. "Little bear." He turned to the polar bear. "Would you fetch me an ice pack for your master?"

"He's not my master," the bear said. "He's my friend." The bear trotted off, presumably to do as he was told, but then what did Russia know?

"How am I an idiot?" Canada's chin rested on his knees.

"You put so little faith in the way your brother feels about you," Russia said. "You think you have to cling to him to get him to pay attention."

"Because I do!" Canada snapped. "He forgets me all the time when he's around other nations. If he were to actually be in a relationship, that would be it. He doesn't need a brother when he has someone to take care of. I…" he trailed off to swallow. "What's the point of existing if no one cares? Can you even call that existing?"

"Canada, you're an important country. You and your brother are the largest trading partners in the world."

"Yeah, well I'm not talking about Canada, I'm talking about Matthew." The younger nation spoke softly, just as he normally did. "England took me from France, made him give me up with the Treaty of Paris. Maple, I had everything. France loved me, or at least I thought he did. Then I was taken from it and thrust into a house where I didn't know the language and was ignored." He tipped his head back and laughed humorlessly. "Once England had me, he wasn't sure what to do with me. I wouldn't eat his food, and for the longest time I flat out refused to speak English."

"Stubborn like your brother," Russia commented.

"Twin thing, I guess." Canada tapped the side of his head. "I acted like an angel at first, but when I realized that wasn't going to make England give me back to France, I restored to worse behaviors. I'd throw tantrums. I'd run away into the woods to try and find France, curse at Arthur in French, and punch holes in the walls. I was too young to understand that as a colony, I didn't have a choice and I didn't want to believe that France would just _give _me up. It wasn't until I made Alfred cry that I stopped. When we first met, he got bored with me, and so I didn't acknowledge him either. In my mind I was a prisoner, but the look in Alfred's eyes…"

"I see." Russia looked over his shoulder as the bear return with a pack of ice in its mouth. "For your eye. It's going to be swollen shut soon, but please continue. Alfred never told me about this."

"I…scared him." Blue eyes fell to the bear as it dropped the pack at his feet. "He ran up, hugged me, and just cried. I still remember him trembling, the tears on his face, the way he begged me not to be angry anymore. For the first time in my life, I felt like a monster, causing fear like that in someone else." Canada took the ice pack and placed it over his eye. "That's when I knew I needed to make sure he never cried like that again. I would protect him, even if it went unappreciated in the long run."

"Then you really are a fool." Russia closed the first aid kit with a snap.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it is the truth." He met the younger nation's eye with a frown. "You are so caught up in Alfred forgetting you, that you are blind to how much he adores you."

"I'm not sure how it is at your house, but on this side of the globe adoration doesn't usually translate to someone ignoring you in favor of traipsing around with other people and forgetting your birthday."

"Canada." Russia put both of his massive hands on Canada's shoulders. "I know I may not be the best person for this, but even I can see it. He told me all about how you helped him when England left."

"H-He did?" For the first time Russia saw genuine surprise overcome Canada's features. "He remembered that?"

"He never forgot it," Russia said. "He blames himself for how the others treat you, because he feels he burdened you so much that you had no chance to deal with your separation from France. Canada — Matthew, your brother loves you and has nothing but respect for you. He may tease and forget, but you have to remember he is an idiot a lot of the time, da?" Russia smiled.

"Heh, he really is, isn't he, eh?" Canada returned it almost shyly.

"Besides, it doesn't matter if he ends up in a relationship with me, Japan, England, or a Big Mac for that matter." He poked Canada's chest. "You will always hold a piece of his heart that none of us can touch. You are in his blood, probably along with all sorts of growth hormones, preservatives, and chunks of cholesterol, but you are floating somewhere in there too. I'm sure of it."

"Um, thanks. I think."

Ugh, he was so bad at this. "Eh, the point I'm trying to make is that in the end, you are the one he can count on to always be there."

"I…" Canada paused and wet his trembling lips. "I'm stupid." He placed his head in his arms and groaned. "I screwed everything up, didn't I?"

"A little bit, yes."

"I'm sorry." It sounded completely sincere, muffled as it was in Canada's arms.

"I'm sorry as well." Russia winced when he touched the back of his head, still sore from the coffee table. "I probably should have rethought beating the crap out of you." He felt something in his coat pocket vibrate and was surprised to see that his phone remained intact. He flipped it open and saw a text message from America.

_Meet me at mcdonalds in town_

Usually when America texted him, it sent a thrill down his spine. Now all he felt was a growing sense of dread. "Your brother wants me to meet him at a McDonalds."

"What?"

"I guess he had time to cool off." Russia stood, ignoring the searing pain in his back. "Time to face the music, I suppose."

"You'd do that? Why?" Canada uncurled his legs and sat forward. "When did you suddenly start to care? You two are supposed to hate each other."

"Da, that seems to be the common consensus around here." He looked down at the other nation, who had taken his bear in his arms and was slowly getting to his feet. "I know this is a hard notion to grasp, but we were both countries before the Cold War. We have more history than just thirty or so years of the world's deadliest pissing contest. And…" Russia's voice tapered off as a new thought overtook his words. It was just America standing there in his fine clothes within the Winter Palace. At first he reminded Russia of a little bird, flighty and timid, but upon approaching— "I finally figured out where mine came from."

"Pardon?" Canada asked.

"I know why I want to be with America. I remember when I first met him, first talked to him." He continued on, almost jittery with glee. He knew. He finally knew why he felt this way. "When I first met him, he was this little thing, who barely knew how to close a deal. My boss back then had just, how to say? Made a pass at him."

"Wait, your boss wanted to do my brother?"

"Nyet, she wanted to have intercourse with him, but that's not important!" Russia waved a hand to silence the other nation, his smile so wide it was going to crack his face for sure. "He was jittery and nervous and frankly had no idea what he was doing. Not that he was stupid, no, far from it. But there he was, this country who was so young and fresh and didn't know the rules, but there was…a spark in his eyes, a spark that said he was going to learn. In that moment, I saw his strength. He was so new, flustered, and in way over his head, but when I talked to him, I saw the passion of his heart. He was like pure fire, and I…fell in love." Russia put a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Had it really been that long?

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you loved my brother from the moment you met him?"

"Huh, I guess I did." Russia faced Canada with his usual smile. "I must not have realized it until now. Funny how that tends to work." He laughed and clapped his hands. "Oh, this is wonderful. It all makes sense now."

"Yeah." Canada limped to the other side of the room and sat on his bed. His back was to Russia, and the light from the window engulfed his wavy blond hair in a halo of light. "Russia, when you talk to my brother, don't worry. I'll tell him the truth, and let him know that it was my fault." Russia's smile slipped and he stared at the back of Canada's head, trying to see into it.

"But why?"

"Because America needs someone who can love him for that long despite all the stupid stuff he does." His shoulders slumped. "We're not children anymore, and I need to let go. So as America would say," he turned smiling gently, "go 'em him, tiger."

Russia dipped his head in thanks and turned away.

**nnnn**

Russia stood in front of the golden arches of the McDonalds, feeling oddly out of place. Through the window he saw France with his arm slung over America's shoulders, looking a little green. France in a McDonalds. Now that was the start of a good joke.

Without further ado, Russia pushed open the doors and ignored the commotion by the cash registers. He instead headed directly towards France and America's table. America stuffed his face with another burger, while France had ordered a salad that looked as if it had barely been picked at. They both looked up at him as he approached with unreadable expressions.

What was France doing here anyway? America seemed to be huddled against him and Russia had to admit it had him confused. Then again, France did see himself as the world's older brother. Russia preferred to see him as the perverted uncle, but then if he made the situation between he and America worse, he was going to be the dead perverted uncle.

Russia glared at him, promising with his eyes as much, and France returned it with a terrified smile of his own. His gaze darted to the window and Russia followed it, surprised to see a very irate England storming down the street. Was he muttering to himself? Russia squinted a bit. It was hard to tell from this distance.

"Well, time to work my magic elsewhere. Remember what we talked about, Alfred." France excused himself and left the restaurant with a little too much gusto. Russia watched him appear outside the window and latch himself onto England. They had been through hard times, but they had still managed to find their way together, crazy dysfunctional as they were.

"Russia." America looked at him through his lashes in a way that was uncharacteristically bashful.

"I take it you want to chew me out for fighting with your brother." Russia sat back, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain in his spine from where Canada nearly folded him in half backwards over his knee. America stood up abruptly from the other side of the table and Russia looked around at the pedestrians. The last thing he wanted was another fight with a North American brother, and fighting in such a public place where they were undoubtedly going to get arrested was—

Russia's thought came to a screeching halt when he felt America's arms snake around his neck in and another pair of lips press quickly and discreetly against his own. Russia didn't have time to react before America was talking at him so fast he was having trouble translating.

"Oh my God, Russia I'm so sorry. I should have known." America's fingers were suddenly ghosting along his cheeks and they warmed involuntarily. "He didn't hurt you, did he? I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I didn't see this sooner."

"America," Russia tried, but the younger nation was so worked up that he didn't hear, still apologizing and fretting over every little bruise. A part of him feared that America might order him to strip right there so he could assess the damage. Fun as that might have been, he was no exhibitionist. Finally, he took America's hands and held them to the side. "Stop apologizing. It is not like I am dying."

"I know, but I totally ran out on you, and that was not something a hero would do. I was just," he bowed his head and Russia released his wrists. "It's just I was so overwhelmed. France made me see that it wasn't your fault. I mean, I never thought Canada would be so…so selfish like that." America's eyes met Russia's eyes and he took the larger nation's hands. "I didn't want to believe it. Just the fact that he would be so possessive makes me wonder if I ever knew him at all. I'm so stupid. I thought we were brothers, but he hates me."

"It's not that simple," Russia said.

"Please, don't give up on this, yet." Alfred's eyes were shining and he leaned forward. "We just started and I don't want this to end. These past few weeks with you…they've been so freaking awesome and I want it to be even more awesome. Please, just don't leave."

"Hold on, why would I leave?" Russia's eyes widened and he looked around the McDonald's, hoping to God America wasn't making a scene amongst Canada's people. Thankfully, the booth they were in was in the far corner of the restaurant away from the cash registers and most of the customers were sitting closer to the exits.

"Because everyone else did," he said. "Canada…Matthew, he chased away everyone else, and I don't want that to happen to this, because I…sweet Benjamin Franklin, I love you." Russia felt his heart give a lurch and he pressed a hand to his chest to make sure it wasn't going to fall out. Warmth bloomed in his cheeks as he looked down into the raw emotion in the younger country's eyes. "That's the—"

"Alfred." Russia squeezed America's hand and gently placed a finger over his lips to stop the chatter. "Despite the laws of physics, I oddly enough love you too." America choked back a laugh, bowing his head and Russia pressed a kiss into his unruly blond hair. "I'm not going to leave you. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. In fact, I was sure you were the one who was going to call it quits."

"Oh." America's voice was flat with disbelief. "I see."

"Yes." Russia laughed and let his hand rest against America's cheek, bumping their foreheads together for a moment. "But the situation with your brother is something you need to fix."

"I know but—"

"And he doesn't hate you. Quite the opposite actually."

"How would you know?" America asked.

"We talked after you stormed off, and Canada…" Russia wasn't sure how he managed to get himself dragged into all this family drama. He looked at America, and was reminded of the first moment they spoke, and the inextinguishable blaze in those bright blue eyes. It was a contagious feeling that anything in the world was possible. It was the moment he had fallen hopelessly and irrevocably in love. "Alfred, your brother has been hurt terribly, and not by me before you panic."

"I know that." America's eyes shifted to their joined hands. "I see it all the time."

"He thinks you are the only one who cares about him, and being with other nations causes you to forget him." Russia let the pad of his thumb stroke the top of the other nation's hand. "From what he told me, that's not too far of a stretch."

"Yeah." He let out a great rush of air, as if Russia had just punched him in the stomach. "It's always been like that, though. He's never told me that it bothered him. He's always so quiet and shy, and I get impatient. I want to talk to people, and he…can't keep up."

"He has a lot of issues," Russia said. "I know I'm the last person who should be labeling someone like that, but this behavior stretches back centuries, back to when you were just colonies. He holds a lot of resentment towards England, which is where it started."

"Oh, my God." America put his face in his hands. "So it was about me clinging to him."

"Not in the way you might think. When you did it made him feel loved, America, but he said you would ignore him every time England returned. That you both would." Russia squeezed the other nation's hand. "Don't you see? He's terrified of losing you."

"He wouldn't lose me though!" America's eyes shined and he looked up at Russia with an almost pleading expression. "He's the hat and I'm the pants."

"I am not going to pretend I know what that means, but have you told him that?"

"Well, no. I thought he already knew. We're twins! He's like the yin to my yang. The Robin to my Batman. The coffee to my cream." America's eyes softened and he looked so young that once again Russia was seeing him for the first time in the Winter Palace, embarrassed and afraid he'd botched all chances of good relations between them.

"He doesn't know that," Russia said. "And from the way we all treat him, I find it hard to believe he'd figure it out. He's angry, America, and he's been hurt his entire life. You need to talk to him. You need to tell him that it's okay to let you go and that no matter what you love him."

"You're right." America scratched the bottom of his eye and smiled shakily. "When did you suddenly become a therapist?"

"Once you've been around for as long as I have, problems like this become quite simple to fix."

"Oh, shut up." America let his forehead rest against Russia's shoulder. "And thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably eat yourself into cardiac arrest due to boredom."

"Well that's…something."

**nnnn**

Canada sat where Russia left him, staring out his window and into the pine forests that surrounded his grandiose cabin. His black eye was numb from the ice still pressed against it and he was thankful for at least that small blessing. These few weeks had given him a lot to think about. Sure he was protective of America. He was his little brother, no matter what the loud-mouth believed.

There were times when America made him feel like he had the world in the palm of his hands, and others when his brother reduced him to the size of an ant. He lived for the latter.

"Hey, Matt." That was a voice he wasn't expecting to hear. It sounded awkward, as if it didn't want to be there. Canada looked away from the window, and sure enough, there was Alfred standing in his doorway.

"You know that one thousand year invitation still exists." He watched America as the memory caused his brows to lift and his lips to part. America won a bet when they were children and declared that Canada had to allow him into any room he was in for a thousand years. Needless to say, he'd never doubt Alfred's bad taste in food again.

"Um, thanks." America stepped into the room, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. He fidgeted with his hands and then stuffed them into his pockets. The awkwardness made Canada feel as if someone were stabbing a knife right between his ribs. It had never been awkward between them. Intense at times, yes, especially during the revolution and 1812, but never awkward. No matter what the situation, America was the one person Canada could talk to about whatever was on his mind, be it loathing, sadness, or anger.

"You should forgive Russia." He turned back to the window, figuring he'd start with the most pressing issue. "It wasn't his fault. I started everything." He jumped when he felt a soft hand touch his face and looked up to see America had made his way across the room without him noticing. His brother's eyes were teary, but he was trying to smile.

"You look like you just got out of another hockey brawl. Only I didn't have to bail you out of jail this time." America sat next to him, without removing his hand from his cheek. His fingers touched some of the bandages. "Russia did a good job."

"So you talked to him?" Canada's uncovered eye drifted downwards.

"Yeah, it cleared a lot of things up." America laughed breathlessly. "France did too, oddly enough."

"How is France?" They were getting off topic, whatever it was, but it was nice to let the issue simmer for a bit and take a breather. Besides, it wasn't going anywhere. Even now it circled above their heads like some ill-tempered dragon.

"His boss has been working him to the bone, but other than that, I guess he's been all right. He misses you." America smiled and let his hand fall away from Canada's face to his shoulder, probably for lack of anywhere else to put it.

"That's good to hear." Canada wasn't sure if he was referring to the fact that despite France's polarized elections he seemed to be doing fine, or that France actually missed him. "How's Russia?"

"You banged him up pretty badly, but then it seems he did a number on your face. Used to do the same to me." America's hand moved from Canada's shoulder, rubbed his upper arm a few times, then retreated back into his lap. "I saw the hole in the floor. I take it he drove your head through it?"

"Yeah." Canada flinched and tenderly touched the top of his head.

"Dude, I get it." America touched his own head. "Guy has some serious upper body strength."

"H-He loves you, you know." It hurt to say it, to admit it. However, when Russia had been talking about the moment he first met America, there was no denying it. Russia had smiled, and it wasn't the creepy childish one. Nor was it the fake curve of the lips he plastered on that radiated unhappiness. It was a true smile that made Russia look achingly human.

"I know." America's eyes warmed when he said it, and his voice took on a reverent sort of depth that made Canada have to swallow the growing lump in his throat. America loved Russia too, deeply and truly. However, his next words brought Canada back down to earth, as if they were a cinder block chained to his ankle. "But I'm not here to talk about Russia."

The bottom dropped out of Canada's stomach and the true issue no longer circled above, but dropped heavily between them. The rough warmth of America's hands gently forced his head to turn so he was looking into his brother's eyes. Canada hadn't known he was even looking away.

"There's a lot I want to say to you." America's teeth sank into his lower lip and his eyes screwed shut.

"Just say it." Canada removed America's hand from his cheek and turned back toward the window. He could take yelling. It wouldn't be the first time America yelled at him. Only this time, he deserved it. In the moment of clarity given to him when Russia told him how he had loved America since their first meeting, he saw he wasn't protecting America at all. He was being possessive and selfish, based solely on his own insecurities. It didn't matter the reason. It wasn't right and it definitely wasn't healthy. Protecting America had been an excuse, and coming to grips with that was hollowing him out from the inside.

"I'm sorry."

Canada's uncovered eye widened and he slowly brought his attention back to America. His twin's eyes were glassy and his lips were slightly pursed. America reached over to him and took the hand he wasn't using to hold the icepack in place.

"Matthew, I'm so sorry." America shifted across the bed until their knees were touching. He sniffed a little and wiped his cheek on his shoulder with an embarrassed laugh. "You know I'm super crappy at this kind of stuff, so bear with me, 'kay?"

"O-Okay." Canada wasn't sure if he'd even spoken, because his lower jaw hung uselessly.

"I have got to be the worst big brother in the history of the world," America began steadily. "And you have every right to hate me, but you don't. You…were always there for me, and even when you couldn't be, it was my fault. You're a nation and your first priority is to your people, and in 1812…I forgot that." Both of his hands clutched Canada's. "I took things too personally, but shit, this isn't even about that! Matthew…Mattie…I," America stopped abruptly and looked down at their joined hands. Canada couldn't move his mouth to ask America to continue. He wasn't even sure what his brother was trying to do. "You mean…God, you have no idea. You mean…Matt, you mean _everything._"

"I…" It was the only sound Canada could muster out of his frozen vocal chords. The way America said 'everything' made his lungs constrict and something prick at the backs of his eyes.

"I've been selfish, like in a big way. I remember all the things you used to do to make me feel better whenever England left." America took a shaky breath and held Canada's eyes. "When he came back, I would just take off towards him because I was so happy, and you'd stand there like…like you were waiting for something."

Canada remembered standing alone in front of the giant house with Kuma in his arms, watching his brother run into England's arms. America's entire universe shifted back to England, and Canada always felt like he was standing in an empty room that used to be full of countless treasures, all of which had been his, and all of which had been torn away in the most shocking and painful way. America's cubby little hands touched England's cheeks as the two nuzzled their noses together, laughing. America was right. He had been waiting to be held too. Waiting for the love France gave him before he turned his back and left.

It was all so clear that Canada found himself there again. His bare feet collected dust as England and America passed him by without a second glance. They entered the house and closed the door behind them. Canada stared out into the fields, wanting to run away, but knowing he was bound here after so many attempts to break free.

His own little hands retained the memory of the downy softness of his brother's hair, and the warm wetness of his tears. Canada had nuzzled his nose and held him. America looked at him with that same warmth, confirming that he was here, that he was needed, wanted, and loved.

_He was mine_. His blue eyes took in the empty fields without actually seeing them. _He was mine. He was mine. He is mine. He. Is. Mine. _

"I know what you were waiting for now." America's adult voice brought him back to the present, and Canada pressed his lips tightly together to keep them from trembling. "You were waiting for me to come get you and bring you home. You were waiting for me to show you that…that you were more than just a replacement."

"Wasn't I though?" The words dragged across the inside of his throat like rusted daggers. America's hands cupped his face, knocking away the icepack. Canada stared into eyes that were so much like his own, and yet now he felt so much younger than America.

"You were never a replacement." America's thumbs started moving under his eyes and Canada became aware that his face was wet. "There's not a living person on this earth who could replace what you are to me." His lips quirked in a sad smile. "And I'm an idiot for giving you all those reasons to think otherwise. I never forgot what you did for me when we were little. I never _ever_ forgot. I owe you more than I could ever pay you back for, because all the good parts of me are because of you." America sniffed and chuckled, his eyes red from behind his glasses. "The bad parts are all me. And maybe a little bit of England."

"Bad taste?" Canada's lips quivered into a smile.

"And my arrogance, and my brashness, and my loudness, and my obnoxiousness, and my self-centeredness, and my unexplainable squickiness when it comes to sex. Actually, I'm going to go out on a limb and blame it all on England." They both laughed and Canada wiped away his tears. America sobered and touched his brother's shoulders. "In all seriousness though, there's no excuse for me treating you the way I have." America leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm sorry that I made you feel like you had to fight the world for me to love you."

"Love…me?" Canada's stomach tied itself in knots and his vision blurred and cleared when the tears spilled over.

"Yes, dummy." America pulled him into a hug. "I love you. "

"Alfred…" Canada's hands rose up shakily to touch his brother's back to return the hug. He closed his eyes, and again he stood alone while he watched America and England hug each other and laugh. There was that feeling of the universe pulling away from him, but then Alfred turned away from England. The elder nation's eyes widened in confusion, and he let the tiny colony down. Alfred was off as soon as if feet touched the dusty path, and as he got closer, Canada felt the ice in his heart begin to melt until he finally felt his twin's fingers entwine with his own.

"I know it's like over four hundred years late, but you don't have to wait anymore." America pulled back with a bright smile and Canada opened his eyes. "We have a lot to work on. Both of us. But I'm with you this time. I promise."

"All right." Canada placed a hand on his brother's face. "And I'm sorry for my behavior. There's no excuse for it, no matter what the reason. I'll…need to work on it, but as long as you're with me. "

"I'm with you. Now let's stop before we both turn into sobbing wrecks." Alfred laughed and sniffed, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his bomber jacket. Canada removed his hand from America's face and did the same.

"Agreed."

"Come on." America stood and held out his hand. "Russia's waiting downstairs and he could probably use help cleaning up the mess you two made." Canada felt his face redden and took his brother's hand. Even now when they were older, after so much had changed them both, their fingers still fit perfectly together. They walked out of the room together, and America offered his support when Canada's vision blurred and his steps faltered.

"Hey Russia," America called out to the larger nation. Russia sat on the couch, leaning back and while one of his hands rested over his side. Canada remembered feeling the ribs break beneath his hockey stick and wasn't sure if he was proud or horrified. America let go of his hand to sit next Russia, and it took all of Canada's self-restraint to keep from snatching it back.

"Did you two talk?" Russia lazily turned his head towards America with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, we did." America took his hand, and just the way he looked at Russia made Canada's hands tighten into fists. That mantra replayed in his head, _He is mine, he is mine, he is mine_, but he forced it down. _No, he's not yours. Not yours. Let go. Let go and rest. _America loved him, and for once in his life, Canada truly believed it. It was time to let go. It was time to finally relax and _let go_. Slowly, he let his fingers fall limp.

"Russia, I…I wanted to say I'm sorry." Canada swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. America needed to hear him say it, and Russia needed to know he was sincere. It was hard to do it without all the emotion clouding his mind, and it was going to take a long time before he was okay with it, but this was the first step. America smiled at him gratefully, leaning against Russia's side. "Please take care of America."

"Da." Russia stood up from the couch and held out one large hand towards Canada. "I will for as long as I can." It was the best any nation could offer. Their lives weren't their own, and politics could turn at the drop of a dime to the point where a personal relationship was impossible. For as long as he could, Russia would be with America. It could end tomorrow or the next few years. Yet, Canada saw a new softness in Russia. In the way he stood and the way his eyes were no longer like two violet mirrors that reflected a person's worst traits back at them. If ever a time came when they couldn't be together, Russia would always love America.

"I know you will." Canada took his hand and shook it. The smile that graced America's face was worth the pain it caused. It felt as if he were giving a part of himself up. America was a constant in his life. His neighbor, his brother, friend, and twin, but this was the right thing to do. He couldn't love America the way Russia could, the way America needed just as much as he needed the love of a family. "But, fair warning." Canada's hand tightened on Russia's and he looked up with a frigid smile. "If you hurt him, all that crazy stuff I did won't even compare to what I would do then. So when I say take care of him, I mean take care of him, eh?"

"Noted." Russia smiled, though it was a little shaky.

"I'm so happy we're all getting along now." America smiled cheerfully, ever avoiding reading the atmosphere when it was convenient.

"And you need to tell him right now."

Canada released Russia's hand when he heard France's voice coming up the staircase.

"I will!" England's voice followed and something vile curled in Canada's gut. He turned towards the staircase and backed up until he was pressed against America's side. He was still overwhelmed, and dealing with England was the last thing he needed. He didn't want to answer questions about what it was England had done wrong, because as a nation, he hadn't done anything. Everything he had done was personally. "I just have to find him."

"Well, you better. Because there are things you need to say to him, Anglelterre." France sounded uncharacteristically annoyed. The sour expression on his face confirmed it when he and England came into view. Canada retreated a little further behind America's back, which earned him an odd look from his twin.

Russia said something in his own language to America. Much to Canada's surprise, America's eyes widened and his gaze traveled between him and the approaching England. "Woah, really?"

"You understand him?" Canada asked.

"Duh." America stuck his tongue out at his brother. "How else was I supposed to listen in on his people during the Cold War?" Alfred reached up and cupped Russia's face, squishing his cheeks together. "Isn't that right, _zayka moya?_"

"Douche." Russia pushed America's hands away, though his eyes were warm with affection. There wasn't much time to dwell on it, for right after the exchange France practically shoved England towards them, his arms crossed and his face stern.

"Tell him."

"I don't want to see you." Canada found it suddenly hard to breathe and he clutched America's arm tighter, taking a small step to further hide himself behind his twin.

"See? He doesn't want to see me." England turned back to France. Yet the other nation's eyes had taken a hard edge. He knew that look all too well, and just like when he was little, Canada felt a twinge of nervousness. Contrary to common thought, France was not someone to question when he got into a particular mood. Canada had once witnessed his former caretaker snap a man's wrist during the Seven Years War. It had been a fluid, quick movement of the hand, happening so fast Canada hadn't had time to process it all until their attacker shrank away, clutching the wounded limb to his chest.

"Matthieu." Just the voice he used was enough to make Canada flinch. France's expression was hard, completely opposite of his usual easygoing manner. "You will listen to what England has to say." That was a cold hard fact, but it hurt enough letting America go. This was too much.

"S'il vous plaît ne me forcez pas à." Canada's eyes fell to the ground.

"Levez les yeux." France's voice was firm, not harsh, and somehow that made the command all the more powerful. Helpless to disobey Canada lifted his eyes and tried his best not to glare at England, pressing himself into America's back for support. "Now, listen to him, and don't interrupt. He and I had a long talk, and he has a lot to say." France crossed his arms and England looked over his shoulder and scowled before turning it first on Russia and then America. Finally, his expression softened when he looked at Canada.

"I'm," he voice cracked and he coughed into his fist. Canada watched him warily as his eyes drifted from America to Russia once more. "Can we talk alone, per chance?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave me alone in a room with you," Canada said. It hadn't meant to sound like a threat, but here was the person who hurt him his entire life, not even as a nation, but as a human being. There was no excuse for it, no bosses to blame. England had neglected him and caused a rift between he and his brother on his own accord.

"Right." England's cheeks pinked slightly, clearly coming to the same conclusion. "Bad idea. If I were you I'd punch my head clean off my shoulders."

"I could leave." Russia raised a hand.

"Non, the more people hear this the better," France said. "Go on, Arthur. Tell him."

"Canada."

Hearing his name on England's lips without having to be reminded sent an unexpected and rather painful jolt through him. "O-Oui?" He lifted his eyes to America, who looked over his shoulder and gave an encouraging smile. He was with him and Canada very cautiously looked at England.

"Bloody hell, I don't know where to begin." England laughed a little and rubbed his eyes. "Matthew, I understand where your resentment comes from. I haven't been the best I could be for you. When I made frog—I mean, France give you up to me, I didn't think of you as a child. You were property to me-a land full of natural resources I needed to expand my empire. You were right."

Canada swallowed thickly wanting to interrupt and tell him that he wasn't helping his case, but one warning look from France was enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

"But you were a child. You were just a little boy like your brother, but I couldn't see that. When America left it broke my heart and my pride. You were right. I didn't care that you had stayed. I told myself you didn't have a choice, that you relied on me too heavily, and that your population was unstable. You didn't have a choice and I thought that if you did, you would have left too.

"I took you for granted." England's eyes softened and he smiled sadly. "I was so focused on what I lost that I couldn't see what I had. I was so hurt and angry about America leaving that it poisoned the reasoning behind you staying. I diminished it. Maybe you didn't have a choice, but you still fought valiantly alongside me, and you were the one to pick me up again after it was all over." Canada's throat constricted at the memory of England on his knees, sobbing in the mud and rain. America had been long gone and England, alone and curled into himself, had looked so small and fragile. There was no telling how long he had been sitting there. Canada had dropped his musket, fallen to his knees, and pulled England into his arms to cry with him.

"I was a fool, Matthew. I doubt this is what you want to hear, especially after what I've done, but…frog, do I really have to say it?" England's cheeks darkened as he turned a pleading expression onto the nation standing behind him. France's demeanor didn't change.

"Oui, this is long overdue."

England let out a frustrated huff, and green eyes met blue. "I've treated you like dirt, I'm aware of that. Not just as a nation, but as a person, and you deserve so much better than that. I'm not going to lie and say that there are any legitimate reasons or excuses for my behavior in the past, because there aren't any. I didn't appreciate you, I didn't treat you as one should child, and it was true that I favored your brother. At one point I thought you were a devil with all the bad behavior, but I know now that it wasn't your fault. It was my fault for being a terrible brother, for neglecting you, and ripping you away from the only love you knew." England's eyes were completely vulnerable and his lips were pressed into a fine line until he spoke again in a voice that was nearly hoarse,

"Regardless of all that, I…I do love you. You are just as much a part of me as your brother is. I've lived for so sodding long that at times it feels almost cruel. I've hurt so many people, including my own damn brothers, in ways that I can't possibly hope to fix." England took a step towards him and held out his hand. Canada flinched and took another step behind America so that he was peering over his brother's shoulder. "But let me try to fix this. I want to…I don't…I don't want to hurt you anymore. _Please._ "

Maybe it was the way England said 'please' or the way his eyes were wet and red-rimmed that made Canada's heart swell to the point he feared it was going to burst. Or more than likely, it was the hand. He had seen that hand held out to America so many times in his childhood. It was the hand that always took. It took him from the love of France, took the love of his twin, and looking at it now, so many centuries later, Matthew didn't want to take it.

With tears burning his eyes, he stepped out from behind America and brushed by it, instead flinging himself into England's arms. He heard the smaller nation gasp as Canada buried his face in England's shoulder and let his exhaustion overtake him. He wasn't sure if he was crying or not, but all that mattered was the solid warmth he was clinging onto. England's arms wrapped around him in return. "I'm sorry." England's fingers ran through his hair and his voice was rough in his ear. "Matthew, I'm so sorry. I'll make this right. I promise you."

Canada lifted his eyes from England's shoulder and saw France smiling at them both, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "So beautiful. I need to be part of it!" France flung his arms out and twirled some sort of odd pirouette before latching onto them.

"Group hug!" America shouted, and the three of them were jolted when he joined them. Canada's chest fluttered with what he knew to be happiness. He pressed his cheek against England's shoulder, loving the way France's hair tickled his face.

"I'm just going to go clean up the living room now." Russia shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his head and prepared to leave the room.

"Oh, no you don't!" America lifted an arm from around France's shoulders and latched onto Russia's wrist. "You are joining this love fest on behalf of being my new better half!"

"America, I don't think that's a good—" Before Russia could protest further, America yanked him forwards until he was pressed against France's back and held him there. Although his face was still partially hidden in England's shoulder, Canada couldn't help but laugh when he felt Russia go rigid being so close to him.

Then he felt his feet leave the ground.

England gave a startled squawk, France yelped, and Russia groaned as America quite literally picked them all up and started twirling them around. Canada laughed harder, tears streaming down his face. England and France weren't so much hugging him anymore as they were clinging to him for dear life, while Russia remained painfully stiff. Sometimes Alfred forgot to control his own strength.

"This is like the ending to a perfect movie!" America rotated a final time.

"Yes. Great. Now put us down, git!" England's legs kicked wildly in thin air.

"France's butt is pressed against my vital regions, dorogoy," Russia said as if he were merely informing America of a minor hiccup.

"And I am okay with this!" France said.

"Frog, you better not be!"

"Oh, Angleterre, you are the only one for me."

"France, stop moving!" Russia snapped.

"Francis!" England's shout was comically shrill.

Canada looked at his brother, who had a clueless smile on his face, though his eyes glinted with mischief. This was nice. He, Matthew Williams, was here. He was part of the group. No, he was part of a family. He was here. He was loved.

There was still a long way to go, he knew. It would take a long time before he would be ready to let America go completely, to stop hovering and worrying, and to trust that the love his brother gave him wouldn't fade. He and England had a long journey ahead as well, but he had hope. All would be well, and none of it would have happened if it weren't for the persistence of the least likely nation.

He looked over his shoulder at Russia and smiled in thanks.

**nnnn**

"I'm a little nervous." America looked up at him with a shaky smile. His chest rose and fell beneath his Captain America pajamas, and blond hair was splayed across the pillow in a halo. "You know, I've never done this kind of thing before for…obvious reasons."

"Da." Russia laughed breathlessly against the other's lips. They weren't planning on doing this tonight, but then a simple goodnight kiss had a way of evolving into something deeper. "It will be fine. I just want to make you happy."

"I know." America's fingers combed through silver strands, before they tenderly traced lines down Russia's chest. "I trust you with this." America chuckled and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of Russia's mouth. "At the risk of sounding like a total tool, I love you, and I'm so thankful that it's going to be you."

"Aw." Russia smirked and returned the kiss. "Sweet talk me anymore and I might vomit."

"Mmm, sexy." America laughed and tilted his head up to kiss Russia again. Their mouths opened and Russia carefully let one hand trail down the flat plane of America's stomach. His fingers were ready to slip beneath the hem of those ridiculous pajamas and feel the warmth of that sun-kissed skin.

From the nightstand his phone buzzed and Russia pulled away from the kiss to answer it.

"Do you have to take it?" America let out a tiny whine that sent a tiny shiver up Russia's spine.

"It might be my boss." Russia flipped open his phone and felt humiliation crash down on top of him.

_From: Evil Twin_

_Make sure you use plenty of lubricant. He's a virgin after all. _

How the hell did Canada even know? This was a spur of the moment thing! They were acting on passion, dammit!

"Well?" America propped himself on his elbows.

"It's from your brother." Russia turned his phone around so America could see the message. America's face darkened into several shades of red.

"God give me strength." America fell back on the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. "Let's just ignore it." Russia nodded and put his phone back. It wasn't too hard to get back into the mood, but a few moments later his phone buzzed again.

_I'm serious. If he walks into the meeting tomorrow with so much as a slight limp, I'm coming for you with a hatchet, and Ivan Junior will see the inside of your throat. _

"Give me that." America snatched his phone and sent a message of his own. "There, now let's do this before—"

This time it was America's phone that buzzed and the younger nation let out a frustrated growl. He snatched it off the nightstand and glared at the message. "Really." Blue eyes became hooded with exasperation and he turned the phone around to show Russia.

_From: Batshit Bela_

_Treat big brother with tenderness and love, or I will know. I will know, and I will come for you in the night and cut out your eyes. This can only last for so long. Brother WILL be mine. Remember that! _

"Why me?" Russia's stomach lurched unpleasantly and he pushed the phone away. He should consider himself lucky she was this accepting, but he liked America's eyes in their rightful place.

"Hey." America sat up and cupped Russia's face. "We can still do this. Come on, beautiful."

America's landline started to ring and Russia threw his hands in the air. The mood was officially killed. "You know what? For the sake of my penis, your eyes, and the sanity of us both, let's just cuddle."

"Okay." America looked heartbreakingly dejected, and as soon as he said it, the phone stopped ringing. Russia laid down next to the younger nation and curled into his chest, grumpy and unsatisfied.

"Aw, don't be a grouch." America's chin rested on the top of his head and he felt the other's fingers rub gentle circles into his shoulder blades. "Canada's been doing really well. At the rate we're going, you'll be popping my cherry by next year."

"One, that's such a gross way to put it," Russia muttered into Captain America's shield. "Two, you are lucky I love you."

Russia's phone buzzed again. He groaned and rolled away from America's warmth to pick it up again.

_I'm going to kill you, fucking commie. _

Russia frowned at the number, unable to recognize it. America slid over next to him and squinted at the screen.

"Hey, that's Tony's number!" The younger nation chuckled fondly. "He's such a little rapscallion. Wonder how he got your number though."

Russia calmly closed his phone, set it on the nightstand, and rolled over to look into America's eyes. "You are _very _lucky I love you."

* * *

Pow! Right in the kisser! This bitch is done! YES da;l dfjasf;ldasg hasgkl dhas;lgjasd;lgj. The first multi-chaptered fic I've ever finished on my own! YES! Okay...

Translations (forgive me for any errors):

America calls Russia his bunny. It's cute.

S'il vous plaît ne me forcez pas à - Please don't force me to.

Levez les yeux - Look up.

Anyway, thank you guys so much for sticking with this! It means a lot! I love all your reviews. I read them, and then I feel like I accomplished something!


End file.
